My Father's Daughter
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: First Class AU. Sequel to 'Beauty and the Beast,' but can be read seperately. Sean returns to Westchester for the seventh anniversary of the death of his wife and unborn daughter. However, not all of the facts of that fateful accident are known, and his cousin Black Tom is planning something that will soon involve not only the X-men, but The Brotherhood as well.
1. Chapter 1

February 14, 1974

"You know we think you're brave for doing this, right?" Alex asked.

Sean swallowed, his hands stuck in his pocket. He looked at the church, feeling a sheen of sweat cover his hands as they bunched into fists.

"It's not bravery," he said.

He looked down.

"It would have been bravery seven years ago," he said, "Now it's just righting a wrong, something I should've done a long time ago."

Alex put his hand on his shoulder and turned him around. Sean took a deep breath before looking Alex in the eye.

"Sean, don't be like that," Alex said, "You were a wreck back then. I can't blame you for how you reacted. No one could."

Sean shook his head again.

"You know you don't have to do this today, right?" Alex asked.

Sean looked up at him, confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "Of course I do."

"Well...the anniversary isn't for another two weeks," Alex said, uncomfortable, "I just…you don't...you don't have to do this now if you don't want to."

Sean shook his head again.

"It's Valentine's Day," he said.

"I know," Alex said.

"Then you know why I have to do this today, right?" Sean said.

Alex sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, guess I do," he said.

Sean gave him a wry smile and opened the door to the car. He pulled a bouquet of roses out of the back, as well as a pink teddy bear. He swallowed, holding the two of them together. They felt awkward in his hands, almost as though they were too bulky and he was holding them wrong.

He looked back at the wall of the churchyard. Sean had married Maeve in that church, Sean, Hank, Moira, and Charles the only witnesses. Maeve hadn't been showing yet, but she'd been carrying their daughter. He still remembered the shy smile she'd given him as he slipped the ring on her finger.

Sean took another deep breath. He couldn't afford to think like that. Seven years ago he'd left at the beginning of February to handle a situation in South America. He'd hoped that he'd be back by the end of February. Instead he'd been back in the first week of March, just in time for his daughter to be born, or so he'd thought. Sean hadn't arrived in time for a birth; just a funeral.

Alex shifted next to him. Sean owed him his thanks for driving him there. He didn't trust himself to do it. However, he wanted to be alone when he visited their grave for the first time since she'd been laid there. He glanced at his friend and Alex nodded, his expression understanding.

"I'll be in the car," he said, "Take as long as you need."

"Thank you," Sean said.

He swallowed before opening the door to the churchyard. He knew exactly where Maeve was buried. Sean walked past the other tombstones to the white one that Moira had chosen. He'd been too numb to do anything other than stare straight ahead for days, feeling ready to break. Looking back on it he couldn't believe that he hadn't.

Then again, he hadn't exactly pulled it together afterwards. Seeing Hank and Carly together, being able to help them, had made him feel like himself again seven years after he had stumbled away from Westchester. There were no more excuses, and he needed to start doing the right thing. And that started with finally putting flowers on the grave.

He found the marker and came to a dead stop. His breath came out in frozen puffs. It was towards the end of winter, and the wind was chilly. His coat didn't seem to be able to protect him from all of it. Moira had said that it would snow later. The clouds were gray, certainly in the perfect condition for it.

Sean crouched down in front of the marker. He reached out and touched the words: Maeve Rourke Cassidy, 1948-1967. His hand trailed further down the marker, reading another, more terrifying inscription: Theresa Maeve Cassidy, 1967. There was no hyphen, no other year that could identify his unborn daughter. The only reason there was a name was because they had discussed it.

He closed his eyes for a moment before he looked at the words that had been inscribed there. It was the one thing that he had chosen.

"The flowers are gone from the garden," he murmured.

Those was the only words that he felt could sum up what he felt with his wife and daughter gone. He swallowed, feeling the tears in his eyes. The grave was well-kept, but he knew that he could take no credit from it. Sean could only thank heaven that he had such good friends, people who would do the duties that he was too weak to perform.

He laid down the bouquet of roses and the teddy bear close to each other. He swallowed again, searching for words.

"I wish I could be handing these things to you instead of just setting them here," he said, "I wish I could see your smile; you liked flowers. I wish I could hear you say 'Thank you daddy.' I wish…"

Sean put a hand in front of his mouth. For a minute he wanted to flee the churchyard and get back into the car with Alex. Alex would drive him back to Institute and take him far away from the bleak place where what had once been his future was buried. From there he'd go to Europe and try as best he could to live his life.

He gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to run. Not anymore.

"Part of me doesn't want to live in a world where I can't do that," Sean said, "And for a long time, I didn't. I just kept carrying my grief, but not living. Part of that meant not coming here. And I'm sorry."

He touched the headstone again.

"But I'm going to do better," he said, "I'm going to…I'm going to be better. And that means coming back here as often as I can, and trying to be me. It means taking charge of this."

He forced a smile.

"It's no less than you two deserve," he said.

Sean looked up.

"I hope you're both looking down right now," Sean said, "and I hope that you understand that I mean every last word that I'm saying."

He let the smile slip.

"Because I do," he said.

* * *

"Did you decode the messages?"

Lorna looked up at Emma and clicked off the radio. She'd figured out how to tune into radio frequencies when she was eleven. Cracking codes had been a little more difficult, but she'd been an avid pupil. She'd figured out how to do the most basic ones before she was thirteen. When she was fourteen she'd sat side by side with Emma, racing her.

She smiled and waved two pieces of paper in front of her.

"Boring stuff," Lorna said, "Just the basic movements. And something else."

Her grin broadened. Emma leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and smiling. It was a look of triumph, one that Lorna had seen for as long as she'd known Emma.

"Don't tell me," she said, "Tricky Dick?"

"Tricky Dick," Lorna said, "It appears that they're thinking about calling him in for the Watergate Scandal."

"I thought they would," Emma said.

She tapped her chin.

"Which means I have to find Azazel," she said, "He owes me ten dollars."

"He won't be happy about that," Lorna said.

"No, he won't," Emma said, "But when is he ever happy about losing?"

She shook her head.

"For as long as I knew him that man is a sore loser," she said, "I don't know how Mystique puts up with him, I don't."

Emma gave a theatrical sigh. Lorna rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to get tangled up in a discussion about their relationship," she said, "I get enough of that sort of thing from Angel."

"Oh, I'm not trying to discuss that right now," Emma said, "But, you gave me a piece of good news. So I'm going to do you a favor."

Lorna frowned as Emma tapped her head. She obviously didn't want anyone overhearing.

_I'm not supposed to tell you this, _Emma thought, _But it looks like the situation in Berlin is going to be resolved a lot faster than we thought._

Lorna's eyes widened.

_Does that mean-?_

_ Yes, _Emma laughed, _Your father's going to be back early. _

Lorna grinned. Emma nodded.

_We think he'll be back in the next few days, _Emma thought.

_That's great! _Lorna thought.

Emma detached herself from the wall and tapped her head. Lorna understood; their mental conversation was over.

"Now then," Emma said, "You can go now. Just make sure the headset wires aren't tangled agai-"

Emma stopped frowning.

"What's that?" she asked.

"What's what?" Lorna asked.

Emma rolled her eyes and pointed to the red bag by Lorna's feet.

"Oh, that," Lorna said.

Emma sighed.

"Lorna, you didn't go out by yourself again, did you?" she said.

Her voice was frustrated.

"I've gone out a grand total of three times in mitigating circumstances," Lorna said, "You make it sound like a habit."

"Did you?" Emma demanded.

Lorna shook her head.

"I picked it up while I was grocery shopping with Angel," she said, "I literally just stopped by in the toy department for five minutes."

"Are you sure?" Emma asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Lorna said.

Emma gave her a calculating glance. Lorna hated it when Emma was like this. She had never been particularly warm, even when Lorna had been a child. There was a teasing side to her that Lorna enjoyed though, and it frustrated her how rarely she got to see it.

"You're not a child anymore Lorna," she said, "And you know your father wants you to take more command in coming times. And that means not playing childish games."

"I understand that," Lorna said.

Emma nodded.

"Good," she said, "So go off and have fun."

Lorna picked up the red bag, the tissue paper inside it rustling. She nodded at Emma once before going on her way. Lorna walked to the next hallway of the house, one of the many haunts of the Brotherhood. She paused there and closed her eyes. Lorna took a shuddering breath, her gloved hands tightening on the handle of the brightly-colored bag.

When she opened her eyes she continued walking down the hall and onto the landing. Below her she saw Angel reading a magazine and painting her nails. From the way Angel was giggling she supposed that some celebrity or other was getting divorced. She did like to keep up with gossip. Angel, despite being the most free member of the Brotherhood, never giggled when she was serious.

Lorna checked her watch. It was five in the afternoon now, the perfect time. She had been managing the radios all morning, and now she had about two hours. Black Tom wouldn't be back until then. Lorna had never liked him and his oily ways, nor the fact that he was more of a common criminal than a dedicated member of their cause. He was only out for himself, not for mutantkind.

She'd asked her father once why they'd kept him around. Her father had just shaken his head and sighed.

"He has skills we need. Sometimes we cannot pick the tools that we use."

Lorna hadn't liked the answer, but she'd understood it. Still, she didn't trust him. If she'd had to go on a mission with someone she'd pick anyone rather than Black Tom, not that she went on any that lasted more than a few hours. Lorna would rather have Toad as a partner, even if he was incompetent. In the very least he believed in what they were doing. It counted for something.

She knocked on the last door in the hall, her irritated thoughts dispersing. Not everything that had come out of Black Tom's arrival was bad. Lorna flattened herself up against the wall, positioning herself so she'd be behind the door when it opened. She grinned and waited as the door creaked open.

A small girl peeked her head out, her hazel eyes wide and her red hair tumbling around her face. Lorna leapt out from the other side of the door.

"Surprise Terry!" she called.

Terry squeaked before she dissolved into giggles. She hugged Lorna around the knees and Lorna ruffled her hair.

"Happy birthday," Lorna said.

She handed her the package. Terry's eyes grew even wider and she let go of Lorna's legs. Her mouth dropped open as she pulled a stuffed bear out of the tissue paper.

"Thank you so much!" she said, hugging the bear.

"No problem," Lorna said.

She crouched down so that she was eye level with Terry.

"It's not every day a girl turns seven," Lorna smiled.

She ran up and hugged Lorna around the knees again. Lorna laughed again. She was so small. No wonder no one called her by her full name: Theresa. It was too long for such a small girl.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_And I'm back! Bet some of you thought this was going to be about Lorna? While she's going to play a major role in this story, someone else is going to be the star. And all of this? Pretty much canon. _


	2. Chapter 2

"How's Sean doing?" Moira asked.

Alex shook his head. Moira sighed and looked down. She patted his arm and moved off, probably to the tutor tables. Alex rubbed his temples before he walked to his room. He needed to change and get ready for simulations. He didn't have the heart to think about putting the team through their paces, but he couldn't cancel a training session just because he wasn't feeling well. They needed to be prepared.

He walked into the room and shut the door behind him. Alex locked it and took off his coat. They'd all known that things weren't going to be easy for Sean. While Alex had been happy over Sean's decision to return, to try and take a step from where he'd been every day since his wife died, he'd known that it wasn't going to happen overnight.

He still missed the carefree boy that Sean had been. Alex had remembered watching as he'd deteriorated in the space of a minute. He'd been there: he'd been the one with the license after all. Sean had always been unable to get the rules of the road down. He'd been learning in case he'd have to drive Maeve to the hospital, but Alex had been the one to drive that day.

They'd both walked in, seen Black Tom at the table, finishing up a beer. He'd shrugged as Sean asked about Maeve.

"Car crash," Black Tom said, "Died a week ago."

At first Alex had wondered if he was joking. The seconds ticked by and he realized that he wasn't. Alex had turned to Sean, searching for words. He'd had no idea what to do, but as soon as he saw Sean he realized that there was a bigger problem. He could see that his friend, the light-hearted, optimistic one, had vanished as soon as he'd heard the news. Alex had seen him crumble and something else had replaced him.

Alex remembered him leaping at Black Tom, screaming words that were more like the cries of an animal, heard the snap of bones. He remembered pulling him off of Black Tom, Sean still kicking and lashing out. Sean had hit him, and Alex had sported the black eye for nearly a month. He'd had to knock Sean out before he could get him off his cousin.

With both Sean and Black Tom unconcious Alex had stared for a moment, deciding what to do. He'd called Charles and asked him to send someone to get Sean. He'd then called an ambulance. Moira arrived first, as he'd known she would, and Alex had explained to her in hurried tones about what had happened. She and Sean had been gone before the ambulance arrived to take Black Tom to the hospital. Alex had put off their questions with half-lies and vagaries, waiting for when Black Tom woke up.

The doctors had told him that the damage in his leg was permanent. He'd be able to walk, but it would be with a limp. Alex figured it was better than the deal that Charles had got. From the expression on Black Tom's face he hadn't seen it that way. Once the doctors had left he'd turned to Alex.

He'd listened patiently while Black Tom had called out curses and threats. He'd listened while he'd said that he was going to call the police, to sue Sean, to kill him, break his leg, destroy him, to make sure that he spent forever locked away. Although Black Tom and Sean were first generation Americans, Black Tom had, unlike Sean, grown up in an Irish neighborhood. As he continued spitting out poison his accent became thicker and thicker until Alex couldn't understand him. It was just as well.

When he was finished Alex had put his hands in his pockets. He'd walked up to Black Tom's bedside and shaken his head.

"You're not going to call the police, and you're not going to hurt Sean," he'd said.

Black Tom had opened his mouth, but Alex had lunged forwards and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"If you were any kind of family to Sean you'd understand he's broken into so many pieces that no one's ever going to be able to put him together again," Alex hissed, "Yeah, it's not your damn fault, and he shouldn't have gone after you, but you didn't exactly try to soften the blow either. You waited a week to tell him! A whole damn week! You had our number!"

Black Tom started to shrug, but Alex cut him off.

"So you're going to lie your damn head off about this, and then you're going to leave," Alex said, "And that's not a suggestion."

He'd seen the fear in Black Tom's eyes then. He was always a coward at heart. He'd managed to get some bravado from somewhere though.

"Or?" he'd snarled.

Alex had narrowed his eyes. He raised his hand and let the red light glow there, the heat from it bathing the two of them.

"Or this. And I don't need a damn shillelagh for it," he said, "So you let Sean grieve. He's lost his wife and daughter."

Black Tom had narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, he has," he said.

Alex had released him and gone back to the Institute, back to his broken friend. The funeral had been a hurried one. Black Tom had made the arrangements, and Moira had gone in and fixed everything so that it wasn't so sloppy. They'd had a funeral for the two of them, both the life that had been lost and the life that could have been.

He opened his eyes and shook his head. Maeve's death had been the most difficult thing that they had faced since Cuba. Like Cuba it had left scars on all of them, but seven years later Sean was still trying to put himself back together. At least he was trying now though. He wouldn't have even thought of that a year ago.

Alex changed into his uniform. Hank and Carly's happiness had inspired Sean to try and do something with his past memories other than mourn. He didn't have many though. Sean had known Maeve for a year before he'd married her, and they'd only been married for five months before they'd all had to go to South America, and Sean had never again seen her alive.

It hadn't been fair, but Alex had always understood that life wasn't fair, and life didn't often give second chances. However, he believed that life gave one miracle, just one, to each person. Finding Scott had been a miracle. He hoped that, just for once, Sean would get his miracle.

He pulled on his coat, his eyes lingering on the black and red 'X' badge emblazoned on the shoulder. He thought back to when he'd threatened Black Tom in the hospital that day. He'd always tried to do his duty by his new family, and if that had meant keeping Sean safe by any means possible, then he could live with doing just about anything.

He thought about Black Tom as he walked out of his room down to the Danger Room. Sean's fury when he'd seen him with the Brotherhood had been unparalleled. Alex had been furious as well, although he knew he could never match Sean. Black Tom had failed as a cousin, and now it appeared that he was failing as a human being.

Black Tom was, in short, scum. He was the kind of man that Alex had met when he was still stealing from people's pockets and breaking into shops. He was the kind who, in a legal deal, would take the coat off your back as well as a layer of skin. When buying stolen goods he'd be twice as bad as any thug who came to him. Alex snorted. The Brotherhood was welcome to a man like that.

* * *

"Did you give her this?"

Lorna looked up. Angel stopped talking and looked at Lorna. Lorna raised her eyebrows as Black Tom held the teddy bear that she had given Terry aloft.

"Yes," she said.

"Why?" Black Tom snapped.

"It's her birthday," Lorna said.

"Her birthday's tomorrow," Black Tom said.

Lorna narrowed her eyes.

"Her birthday's today," she said.

"It isn't."

"It is," Lorna said, "I would expect her uncle to know that."

Black Tom's face darkened and Lorna folded her arms across her chest. Angel coughed, smoothing the dress she was wearing.

"You know, it's pretty fortunate you came down here," she said, "Emma was looking for you."

Black Tom looked at her. Lorna didn't even move her head.

"Really," he said.

"Yes," Angel said, "She said it had something to do with the perimeter. I think it blew another gasket or something."

Black Tom snorted. He tossed the teddy bear to Lorna, who caught it with one hand.

"Give it back to her, if it is indeed her birthday," he snapped.

"I will, because it is," Lorna said.

He sneered at her before limping out of the room. Lorna waited until the door was shut until she looked at Angel.

"It blew a gasket?" she said.

"It's always blowing a gasket. Emma will understand," Angel said, "I'm not going to have the two of you fighting. Again."

Lorna snorted.

"He's scum," she said.

Angel shrugged.

"I've known worse people," she said.

"I haven't," Lorna said.

She considered her words.

"Not for very long anyway," she said.

Angel laughed.

"You know Lorna, sometimes I think your father taught you too well," she said.

"No such thing," Lorna said.

"No, I don't think there is," she said.

She patted her shoulder.

"Are you going to give her the bear back?"

"Of course," Lorna said, "She deserves a present from someone."

"And don't forget the cake," Angel said.

She smiled.

"You know, I remember when we used to celebrate another little girl's birthday," she said, "Only we'd have a scavenger hunt and tie the clues to coins. See if she could summon them around the house."

Lorna nodded, the memory of her twelfth birthday a good one.

"I remember when you first came," Angel said, "Emma was very imperious; this was no place for children!"

Her voice was high and mocking. Lorna laughed. She remembered Emma's original frigidity when she first came, a scared child clutching her father's pant leg.

"She made fun of us for 'falling under your spell.' She was pretty insufferable about that," Angel said, "But you got her in the end. You got us all."

Lorna rolled her eyes. She wasn't quit sure about that: Mystique still wasn't a huge fan of her and Janos tended to keep his distance. However, as long as they tolerated her she didn't have any complaints.

An explosion behind her made her leap forward, jumping over the coffee table and rolling before turning around. She looked up and saw Azazel leaned over the couch, smirking.

"Nyet screams?" he asked.

"Damn it," she said.

She got to her feet as Angel giggled.

"Why do you always think that's funny?" she asked.

"Because it is," Azazel said.

He teleported onto the couch.

"Cannot have student getting complacent," he said.

Lorna rolled her eyes. When she had first come to the Brotherhood her father had begun teaching her about her mutation. At the same time Azazel had begun teaching her what to do if she couldn't rely on it. She could still remember her father and him arguing over how intense her lessons would be, how she was just a child.

As time had gone on her lessons had become tougher and tougher until she had finally been allowed onto the field. She remembered when, instead of taking away the knives she'd practiced with, Azazel had given them to her. It had been the perfect gift: those knives had saved her life more than once.

However, his teleportation had never stopped surprising her. He often used it as a joke, triggering the responses to surprises he had taught her in order to save her life. As such she found herself doing way too many acrobatics. She wanted to tell him to stop, he didn't need to keep making so many checks, just as he spotted the teddy bear.

He picked it up and cocked his head at it.

"Lorna, you are too old for bears, da?" he asked.

"It's Terry's," Lorna said.

He looked at the bear, deep in thought.

"It is her birthday, da?"

"I'm glad someone else remembered," Lorna said, snatching the bear from him, "Because of her idiot uncle I need to go tell her that she can have this."

"He forgot?" Azazel said.

"Yep," Angel said.

He stroked his beard.

"We cannot have cake go to waste though," he said.

"Oh, we're still having the cake," Lorna said.

She tucked the bear under her arm.

"By the way," she said, "You owe Emma ten dollars."

Azazel swore and teleported away. Lorna laughed and climbed the stairs, ready to give Terry her bear back.


	3. Chapter 3

Cold sweat beaded on Terry's forehead. She took in deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. The room was dark and Terry gulped in air. She'd never been afraid of the dark, even as a baby. However, it didn't comfort her either. She tried to tell herself that everything was normal, that nothing had happened, that it had just been a nightmare, but it didn't work. The sweat was making her stick to her blankets.

She kicked off her covers and rolled over, clutching her new teddy bear. Her Uncle Tom had taken it away from her but Lorna had brought it back. She had kept it hidden until bedtime, unsure if he would take it away from her again. He hadn't asked about it though, so Terry thought that it was okay.

Terry stared at her bear. It should have helped to have someone with her when she was having a nightmare, but although it was very pretty, it was just a bear. Terry thought for a minute, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep on her own. She bit her lip before she got up and padded out of the room, clutching her bear.

She looked down the hallway. It was dark, although she could hear a few murmurs coming from the bottom floor. Terry peered over the rail and saw Emma and Azazel talking to each other. At first she had been afraid of the two of them. Emma had been kind to her though, even if it was in a distant way. Azazel had even teleported her around until she'd thrown up, but she'd had fun.

Terry pulled herself back. Uncle Tom didn't allow her to see them much though. He always told her that she was supposed to stay in her room. He got angry if she went out too often. Lorna kept telling her that she could come out and explore the large house, that was her new home, but Uncle Tom told her to stay away from the rest.

Many times Terry wished that she was brave. If she was then she would take Lorna's invitation and appease her curiosity. However, she wasn't brave. Uncle Tom had already hit her enough for her to know that she should listen to him. Her long sleeves hid the bruises, although he hadn't had much time to hurt her once they came to the new house.

Lorna's father didn't tolerate his drunken rages, but that didn't mean that they didn't still happen. They were staples of her childhood. Terry had understood every other word, but they were all about his leg and some sort of debt. Terry tried to hide when he became enraged, but he often found her. He'd broken her arm once. It had healed quickly but it had scared Terry forever after.

She shuddered at the memory. He'd grabbed her arm and yanked her in front of his face. His eyes had been wild and he'd started screaming about how she looked wrong. Terry had never thought about how she looked before. She'd counted the freckles on her face and braided her red hair, but she'd never felt like she wasn't pretty. He'd made her feel like she wasn't pretty.

When he wasn't drunk he didn't feel the need to hit her as often. She also knew that Lorna was watching him since he had come to the house. She was Terry's protector. Lorna had told her that she was pretty, the first time she had ever heard that. She'd pulled some of her green hair down and laid it next to Terry's red. She'd smiled at her before tucking the hair behind her ear.

"We're Christmas girls, you and I," she said, "Red and green."

Terry had giggled then. She liked the memory. Terry liked Lorna period. Ever since she had met her two years previous Terry had known that she was special. How could she not be? She was brave and strong. She was younger than everyone else, but she talked to them like equals and did what she liked.

Although Terry wasn't sure exactly what she was fighting, she wasn't sure what any of them were fighting, she knew that she was like a knight in a fairytale. She defended Terry and would yell at Uncle Tom when she got angry at him. At first Terry had been afraid that Uncle Tom would hurt her. Then Lorna's father had come in, his voice cold, and Uncle Tom had left. He'd been angry, but Terry knew that he wouldn't hurt Lorna.

Terry wished she had parents who cared about her. Lorna only had her father; she told Terry that her mother had died long ago. She knew that Lorna missed her, but she told her good things about her mother. Terry liked to listen to Lorna's stories; she had such interesting ones about the adventures that she'd had with her father. Lorna taught her games that her mother had taught her when she was little.

Uncle Tom had told her that both of Terry's parents had died, that he'd been the only family to claim her. He told her that she was lucky to have him as a guardian, that no one else would have taken her. Terry had tried to believe that, but it had become more difficult with each passing year. She didn't believe it any more.

She padded down to Lorna's room and knocked on the door. Terry shuffled from one foot to another. On the other side of the door she heard footsteps. The door opened and Lorna looked at her, her eyes bleary with sleep. Terry clutched the bear closer and swallowed. She knew Lorna wouldn't be mad at her, but it was hard to remind herself that sometimes.

"Terry?" she said, her voice gentle.

Terry shuffled the bear and looked up. Lorna smiled at her.

"Sweetie, did you have another nightmare?" she asked.

Terry nodded.

"Come on in," Lorna said.

Terry scurried inside. She knew that her movements were awkward and ungainly, her posture strange. Lorna was graceful and she wished that she could be that. Instead she was just too skinny, her skin too pale, and her bones too fragile. She managed a small smile as Lorna got back in bed and patted the space next to her.

She climbed in and snuggled next to Lorna. Lorna put one of her hands on her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

Terry looked up.

"About what?" she asked.

"Your nightmare," Lorna said.

Terry paused. She could tell Lorna, tell her about the nightmare where she clawed at her throat, unable to call out while her uncle hit her. Still, she was seven now. She wasn't supposed to be having nightmares. She shook her head and Lorna sighed.

"You can tell me," she said.

"I know," Terry said.

Lorna sighed again and rested her head on the pillow. Terry's eyes were open, unclouded by sleep, and she knew that Lorna noticed.

"Having trouble getting back to sleep?"

Terry nodded.

"You know you're safe here, right?" Lorna said.

Terry nodded again. She knew Lorna would keep her safe.

"No one and nothing's going to harm you," she said, "I won't let them."

"I know," Terry whispered.

Lorna frowned. She didn't understand. She didn't know what the dream was about though, so she couldn't. Terry couldn't tell her though.

"You know," Lorna said, "When I was a little girl, and I had nightmares, I would go to my father."

Terry looked up at her, her eyes wide.

"Don't look at me like that," Lorna laughed, "Everyone has nightmares. I had a lot when I was eleven."

Terry thought about how she thought seven was too old to have nightmares. Apparently she was wrong.

"I always felt so safe with my father," Lorna said, "But I had trouble sleeping sometimes. So he'd sing to me to calm me down and get me to sleep."

A frown crossed Terry's face. Lorna's father had never struck her as the type to sing. He didn't strike her as the gentle type either. She had respected him because he was Lorna's father, and he was nice enough to her, but he wasn't someone that she had much contact with. He was out a lot. Terry knew that he was out at the moment, that he wouldn't be back for a few more days.

The idea of him singing was a very strange one. Lorna must have caught her expression, because she laughed again.

"I know, right?" Lorna said.

She smiled. She liked it when Lorna laughed. It made it sound as though nothing was wrong.

"I was a little surprised myself," Lorna said, "But he just wanted me to feel safe and loved."

Terry bit the inside of her cheek. She wished that she had a father like that.

"Do you want to hear the song?" Lorna said.

Terry clutched her bear closer to her and nodded. Lorna smiled and cleared her throat.

"I don't have a very good singing voice, and it's been a while since I was eleven," she said, "So you're going to have to bear with me for a bit, okay?"

Terry smiled and Lorna cleared her throat again. She began twirling a few strands of Terry's hair.

"Der Vater hüt't die Schaf," Lorna sang, her voice quiet, "Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein, da fällt herab ein Träumelein. Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf."

Her voice was soft and soothing. Terry felt herself calming down.

"Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf," Lorna continued, "Am Himmel ziehn die Schaf. Die Sternlein sind die Lämmerlein, der Mond, der ist das Schäferlein. Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf."

The cold sweat on Terry's forehead began to evaporate. She took a deep breath, trying to banish all of her memories of the nightmare.

"Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf," Lorna murmured, "So schenk' ich dir ein Schaf. Mit einer goldnen Schelle fein, das soll dein Spielgeselle sein. Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf."

The words were soft, cradling her.

"You have a pretty voice," Terry said.

Lorna cocked her head and smiled.

"Flatterer," she said.

Terry giggled.

"I can sing it again, if you want," Lorna said.

Terry considered it, but she knew that it would send her to sleep. Despite all of Lorna's work she knew she couldn't fall asleep just yet. She would just have the nightmare again.

"No thank you," Terry said.

Lorna put her hand on Terry's shoulder.

"Are you still scared?" she asked.

Terry bit her lip. She didn't like lying to Lorna.

"A little," she admitted.

Lorna lowered her eyes for a moment, thinking.

"You do feel safe here, don't you Terry?" she asked after a few minutes, "I only ask because I want you to feel safe. You're probably in one of the safest places for our kind in the world."

Terry hesitated.

"Our kind?" she asked.

"Mutants," Lorna said.

Terry nodded. She had to remember that. It was mutations, the longest word she knew, that they were using to do strange things and not magic. She was a mutant, and everyone around her were mutants. The only thing Uncle Tom told her about her parents was that her father had been a mutant. Everyone said that it meant she'd be one too. She hadn't seen any sign of it though, but Lorna had told her it would be some time yet before she saw any signs.

"It's dangerous out there for us, and I know it can be scary," Lorna said, "But that's why we've come together. To protect you and everyone like you."

Terry looked back down at her bear. She wasn't sure if that was how Uncle Tom felt. He certainly hadn't tried to protect anyone before he'd come to work with Lorna's father. Terry had learned, at seven years of age, that he didn't care about her.

It had hurt at first, but that had been years ago. The knowledge was just a warning in the back of her head now.

"And that's what we want, a safe world for us all. It doesn't sound like much, but you're smart," Lorna said, "You know that the simplest-sounding things can be hard to find."

Terry gave a shaky nod.

"There are some people out there who want to hurt us for no reason," Lorna said, "But I don't want you to be afraid of them, because they can't touch us. Not when we're all together. I want you to know that."

Terry nodded again, but she couldn't feel afraid of them. Not when Uncle Tom scared her so much, and he was so much closer than those mean people. However, it felt good to hear that Lorna was fighting for her, that she cared so much. Terry wished that Lorna were her sister, her real sister. She would have always had her that way.

"You're always so nice to me," she murmured.

Lorna ruffled her thick red hair.

"Hey," she said, "you deserve people who want to be nice to you."

Terry closed her eyes, pretending as though she were falling asleep. She was sleepy, but that's not why she closed her eyes. She didn't want Lorna to see the tears gathering there.

"You're a good girl, and I know that it can get tough, being a child here," Lorna said, "But as long as someone cares about you, then it's not so bad. It's easier to be brave."

"'m not brave," Terry yawned.

"Of course you are," Lorna said.

As she drifted off to sleep Terry heard Lorna say;

"You just need to find your voice."


	4. Chapter 4

February 15, 1974

"Is this like your perfect way to start a day?" Sean asked, "Danger Room sessions at 8:30?"

"They know better than to eat a big breakfast," Alex said.

He winced.

"Well, they do now anyway," Alex said.

"Seriously?" Sean asked.

Alex shrugged and flipped a switch. Below them the Danger Room began shifting into an urban cityscape strewn with debris. He turned the dial, setting the difficulty level. Sean raised his eyebrow when he saw just how hard it was going to be for the teens, but he didn't say anything. He'd long known his friend's propensity for putting the team through their paces.

"Hell of a thing for the first guy who barfed in the Danger Room to say," Alex said.

"Hell of a thing for the second guy to be doing," Sean said.

Alex laughed. He pressed a button and the ground began splitting beneath the team's feet.

"You know, you could just do it later in the day," Sean said.

"Nah. This keeps 'em sharp," Alex said.

Sean rolled his eyes and stifled a yawn. It was hard for him to get any sleep in Westchester. He'd stayed there the night before his wedding with Maeve one hall down. She didn't have any family to help her get ready for the ceremony, so Moira had stood in for the hordes of fluttering family members she should have had.

He'd known that she was upset about their situation. Who wouldn't be? He'd snuck down the hall and visited, hoping he could do something to cheer her up. Sean remembered how awkward he'd been, an eighteen-year-old on the edge of a momentous occasion.

They had watched a rerun of a stupid variety show. He'd hoped that it would take her mind off the fact that her father had forbidden her family to come to the ceremony. They'd laughed, and, later, Maeve had cried a little. He'd felt bad about that, but she'd laced her fingers with his and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I know we're not in a good situation," she'd said, "I mean, we're better off than other teens, but...at the same time..."

She'd trailed off and one of her hands had rested on her stomach.

"I don't have any regrets," she'd said.

Maeve had looked at him, her hazel eyes still watery.

"And, of all the people in the world, I'm glad I'm in this with you," she'd said.

Even now the words had embedded themselves in his heart. Sean remembered how Maeve had ended up falling asleep on his shoulder, how he'd left before the sun came up to avoid bad luck, but had left her a note anyway. He remembered her walking down the aisle, the shy way that she'd looked up at him before declaring that she'd be his wife.

Sean swallowed and braced for the ripping sensation in his chest. To his relief and surprise it wasn't as intense as it used to be. It still hurt more than anything he thought he'd be able to handle, but it didn't make him feel like all he wanted to do was lock himself in a dark room for the rest of his life.

Day by day, as long as he kept trying, it would get better.

"Nice backflip," Alex said.

Sean looked up and saw Alex pointing to his brother. The team was fighting what looked like a small squad of soldiers. He wondered when their enemies had shown up. The formations seemed alien to him, but he could see vestiges of the old X-men fighting techniques in the new team. Increasing the team from three members to five had been a good move.

He looked closer at the soldiers.

"Friends of Humanity hits it a little on the nose, doesn't it?" Sean asked.

"Hey, after what happened last month there really isn't any such thing as being too careful," Alex said.

"How are Hank and Carly anyway?" Sean asked.

"Settling down," Alex said, "Hank's talking to some activists, but he doesn't want to start anything too big right now. With the McCoy-Baulson process taking flight it's gotten busy. Besides, with Carly being pregnant he doesn't want to move her around too much."

"Did they find out the gender yet?" Sean asked.

"Nah. Moira says they're going in for a sonogram tomorrow," he said.

Alex shook his head.

"I don't know how she does it sometimes," he said.

"Does what?" Sean asked.

"Everything," Alex said, "I mean, take the Institute."

"What about it?" Sean asked.

Alex opened his mouth, but something in the simulation caught his eye. He held up a hand.

"One sec," he said.

He turned a dial. A large piece of masonry crashed down among the group, causing them to leap away. A virtual tank drove into the clearing and Alex leaned back.

"That's overdoing it," Sean said.

"Hey, I'm not putting it past those weirdos to get a tank," Alex said, "Where was I?"

"The Institute and Moira," Sean said.

"Yeah," Alex said, "She tutors, helps move students in, helps with the management, and recruits."

"Moira's always liked to keep busy," Sean said.

"But on top of that she also keeps in contact with all of us and helps out the mutant community," Alex said.

He made a face.

"And she has David," he said.

"David's a good kid," Sean said.

"He's a good kid, but he's also three," Alex said, "Loud, and overly curious. I swear I caught him reading the other day."

"He's not reading," Sean said.

"Well he was giving that book a very suspicious look then," Alex said.

"He is Charles's son," Sean said.

"I don't think Charles was reading at three," Alex said.

He looked back at the teens in the simulation. He shook his head and pulled the microphone to him, flipping on the intercom system.

"You like dying?" he demanded, "Because that's what's going to happen if you pull shit like that in real life!"

He flipped off the intercom and turned back to Sean.

"Anyway, she's got her hands full," Alex said, "So does Charles really. Sometimes I wonder how they manage to do it, and then have a solid marriage on top of everything else."

Alex ran a hand through his hair and idly pressed a few buttons which caused a building to crumble. Sean could hear the team's cries of indignation.

"You enjoy this entirely too much," Sean said.

"So you've said," Alex said.

Sean threw his hands up.

"Well, if you'd spend a little more time outside of hte Danger Room then I wouldn't have cause to have so many of these conversations," Sean said.

Alex just snorted.

"I wonder if they have a degree for being a sadist," Sean said, "Maybe you should have majored in that instead of geology. You certainly seem to enjoy one over the other."

"Hey, you know why I make it tough on them," Alex said.

"I know: so The Brotherhood looks easy by comparison," Sean said.

"Exactly," Alex said, "They're my responsibility, and I'm not going to let them go into battle half-cocked. Just look at this teamwork!"

He gestured to the teens. Sean had to admit that they were a tight unit.

"I mean, can you believe how well they work together?" Alex said, "I've put them through individual paces too. It's impressive."

"Do you think they're ready to go out on their own?" Sean asked.

Alex hesitated.

"They've been on a few missions without me," Alex said, his voice hesitant.

"How many?" Sean asked.

Alex's face became hard.

"Two," he said.

"Two," Sean said.

He shook his head.

"We were going on two a week, by ourselves, at their age," Sean said.

"Yes, but times are changing," Alex said, "We were the only three who were fighting the Brotherhood. If they don't have to become child soldiers quite to the level that we were then I think it would be better."

"I just think that you should give them some more credit," Sean said.

"I give them plenty of credit," Alex said.

Sean gestured to the team.

"I hate to sound judgmental-"

"Too damn late," Alex said.

"But this is your life right now," Sean said, "Do you want it to be your life forever?"

Alex crossed his arms.

"You keep saying that like it's a bad thing," he said.

"There's nothing wrong with what you're doing," Sean said, "I just wonder…I don't know…did you always want to do this?"

Alex stared at him.

"You're being unbelievably vague," he said.

"I mean, why do you even have a degree in geology if this is what you wanted to do?" Sean said.

Alex pursed his lips. He could tell that he was irritating his friend, but he wasn't going to stop now that he had begun. He'd always wondered about Alex's choice of a major and his career path. Sean had studied basic law and administration. Both served him well in his chosen career as an Interpol agent.

He didn't see how geology was serving Alex.

"I thought it might be fun," Alex said.

"And do you ever want to use it?" Sean asked.

Alex shrugged.

"Yes, no, maybe," he said, "You keep acting like I'm unhappy with what I'm doing. I'm not."

"I think you're satisfied with what you're doing," Sean said, "I just…"

He fumbled for words.

"I just think there's a life outside of these walls that you're missing out on," he said, "Just a little."

Alex's frown deepened. He wondered if he was troubling him. Part of him wished that he hadn't brought it up.

"I'm just…this is how I'm making a difference," he said.

"If you don't want it to be, it doesn't have to be," Sean said, "Look at Hank."

Alex inclined his head, but he still looked troubled. He pulled out a piece of crumpled paper and waved it around.

"I got this from a friend I made back when I interned up at New York State," he said, "Apparently they're having a geology conference in South Dakota in two days."

Sean couldn't help but smile.

"Planning on going?" he asked.

"Not sure," Alex said.

He sounded troubled.

"I don't know if they'll need me here," Alex said.

"I think they can spare you for about a week," Sean said.

He gestured to himself. He felt odd about the offer he was about to make, but he had helped Hank in the past month. It might be time to help Alex as well.

"I could take over for you for that time," he said, "It wouldn't be any trouble, it really wouldn't."

Alex raised his eyebrows.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Positive," Sean said.

He looked at the teens.

"How difficult can it be?" he asked.

"Oh, they're little hellions when they're feeling like it," Alex said, "But…I guess I have some vacation saved up."

Alex glanced back down at the teens.

"But, well, I think I'll give 'em something to remember me by," he said.

He pressed a button and police cars drove up, surrounding the team.

"More like give them nightmares," Sean said.

"Close enough," Alex shrugged.


	5. Chapter 5

February 16, 1974

"And you've got the whole routine down?" Alex said, "Everything you need to teach them?"

"I've got it," Scott laughed.

He crossed his arms and grinned.

"I didn't get this far just by looking pretty," he said.

Alex snorted and put his weight on his suitcase before zipping it up. He couldn't believe that all of his clothes were having a hard time fitting. It had been a long time since he'd had to pack anything. He could tell that his little brother was watching him with some amusement, and he felt a faint prickle of irritation.

It was why he chose not to respond to Scott's joke.

"I didn't," Scott said.

Alex still didn't say anything as he lowered the suitcase to the floor. He wiped his hands on his pants.

"And make sure Sean doesn't go too easy on you guys," he said, "I get the feeling he thinks you should be swaddled in feather pillows sometimes."

"You know you're only supposed to be gone for a week, right?" Scott asked.

He was still grinning. Alex rolled his eyes.

"A week makes a difference," he said.

"I know, I know," Scott said.

His brother shifted his feet, a nervous smile replacing his cocky grin.

"But we know what we're doing," he said.

There was an unasked question in his words. Alex stepped in front of his suitcase and cocked his head. It never failed to amaze him how much stock his brother placed in his approval. It was what, in his early days of training his brother, led him to worrying about pushing him too far, about the consequences of his actions.

He remembered finding Scott again, a scared eight-year old who had been locked away, his eyes wrapped up. Even before he knew who he was Alex had felt nothing but pity towards the child and anger at the ones who had done this. He'd been another foster child with no one to protect him, a child who hadn't been able to hide his powers and been locked up for fear of what he would do.

Alex had been thirteen when the plane carrying their parents had crashed. His parents had both died, but he could still remember when they had strapped the parachute to his back, asked him to hold his brother's hand, to make sure that his parachute deployed since he was so small, so defenseless.

Alex had made sure that it had gone off when they had plummeted off the plane. He pulled the string, watched the parachute go up. He'd deployed his own parachute after that, made sure that he was safely distanced from his brother before it went up. Alex had still been able to see Scott as the embers had caught his parachute on fire, sending him spiraling down to the ground.

He'd hit it hard, injuring his head and breaking his arm. He'd been in a coma for three weeks before he woke up. When he had he'd been told that there had been no survivors. He'd cried and screamed before he'd been given a sedative. When he woke up they told him that he was going to a foster home. He was past caring.

It was probably inevitable that he'd fall in with a bad crowd. Later that year his mutation had manifested. He'd had no control over it and had tucked it away as he'd smashed into buildings and participated in petty thefts, his initial feelings of shame swallowed by the numbness and anger in his heart.

He'd never killed anyone, but he'd gotten into plenty of fights. By the time he was fifteen he'd been in and out of juvenile hall several times. They had finally put him in a prison for adults when he had blown up an empty warehouse with his powers. They'd thought it was dynamite. He hadn't argued.

Out of sheer fear they had given him as much time as they could. Alex hadn't blamed them. He'd been scared of himself too, worried that someone might find out what he could do, worried about not knowing what it was exactly that he could do. He could level a block with that kind of power, and it made him shudder to think about it.

Alex had comforted himself with the fact that the building was empty, but it didn't change anything. He was dangerous, and now he knew what he was capable of. Alex didn't want any part in it, didn't want to look at himself in the mirror. He'd decided to lock himself away, to spend his time in solitary away from everyone else.

Then Charles and Erik had walked into his life and given him an offer. It was the first time that some of his apathy had disappeared and his curiosity had been roused. Then he'd gone to the mansion and learned his lessons about what it meant to give yourself to something greater, to stand by people, to fight, to control his mutation, to show loyalty, and to show betrayal.

Alex had made his decision on the beach to do the right thing, to fight for something he believed in. By the time he was sixteen he had finally shaken off his apathy and gotten his life back on track. He was an X-man, if a brash and impetuous one. His scars weren't from petty fights anymore, but from battling for something real.

He'd been honored when Charles had invited him on a recruitment trip. They had only been given a report that a boy had shot lasers out of his eyes and destroyed an empty truck, nothing more. Alex had hoped that he could do something for the boy because he knew how scared he would be after viewing that sort of power. He knew that Charles would be better at it, but it might help to have a testimonial.

When he'd seen the small boy cowering in the corner of the cell he'd had to struggle to keep his emotions down. They had been scared so they'd locked him away, spouting things about the destruction of property. The officers had started arguing with Charles, and he'd begun trying to calm them down.

Alex had approached the boy who was rapidly becoming more frightened. He'd crouched in front of him, trying to find something comforting to say. He'd rolled a few sentences around in his head before the boy turned and looked at him through the blindfold. Alex had frozen, the familiar features four years older.

He'd called out his brother's name and Scott had reached out, saying his name from a vague memory. He found out later that Scott had managed to get a hold of a photograph, clinging to the life that he had once had. He knew that Charles had turned when that had happened, but he'd been too occupied with holding his brother, determined that the world had given him his miracle. When Charles had Scott released he'd carried him to the school.

At first he'd only thought of protecting him. He'd seemed like he'd needed it. However, when he'd been given his glasses Scott had become more active, more interested in learning to do what Alex was doing. At first Alex had resisted, but he knew that he was in no position to deny his brother the chances that he himself had been given.

So Alex had put him on the X-man team when he hit fifteen and hoped for the best. He'd explained to Scott that he would be tough. He wasn't going to pull any punches for his brother because the Brotherhood wouldn't, that he would be crippling his brother's skills if he went easy on him.

Scott had agreed and struggled to overcome anything that Alex threw his way. He'd watched in awe and admiration as his brother became better and better. Maybe he would lead the X-men after him. He seemed to understand the true meaning of the team, the loyalty, friendship, and family that it encompassed more than any of his other students. He projected a calm confidence that made the other members of the team trust him, that led him to ask Jean out before Warren, although that mess had given Alex quite the headache.

And yet, despite all of that, he still constantly craved Alex's approval. Alex smiled. He might have had to keep pushing his brother, but approval was one thing that he could give freely.

"Hey, I know," he said, clapping his hand on Scott's shoulder, "You'll be with them."

Scott's smile became genuine. Alex removed his hand and grabbed his suitcase.

"Just don't blow anything up," he said.

"I'll try," Scott said.

* * *

"Any eights?"

"Sonovuabitch," Lorna said.

She tossed him the card. He caught it in mid-air.

"At this rate it looks like you will be doing dishes after all devochka," he said.

Lorna rolled her eyes again.

"There has to be a better way to do this," she said.

"Nyet way that I know of," Azazel said.

"I did the dishes last night!" she said.

"Da, but it is Angel's turn," he said, "And where is Angel?"

"She's out with Emma," Lorna said.

She looked down at her remaining cards.

"Got any sixes?" she asked.

"Nyet," Azazel said.

She fished around in the pile on the table and picked up a two.

"Why do I always get stuck on guard duty with you?" Lorna asked.

"Because I am unlucky," he said, "Any fours?"

She made a face and he laughed. Azazel had been her constant shadow when she was younger, the one that her father would leave in charge of her when he went away. At first she had been scared of Azazel, his appearance and accent strange to her. In those early days all she'd wanted to do was stay by the man who she'd been told was her father, the man who had rescued her from the worst week of her life.

However, Azazel had been kind to her. She didn't venture out of her room very often, but whenever he'd seen her he'd always had a cookie or funny story to tell her. Lorna had been frightened in her new home, and she had been quick to pick up on the fact that she wasn't too welcome amongst her father's co-workers. Any friendly overtures were gratefully recieved.

Angel had been enthusiastic about Lorna's presence. Lorna had warmed to her the quickest; she had been the first member of the Brotherhood that she had met. She was also around the most. Her powers weren't conducive to the kinds of underground missions that had been going on at the time. She had braided Lorna's newly-green hair, telling her that it looked beautiful, like fresh grass on a summer's day.

Emma had not liked her presence. She had warmed to her as time went by, but in the beginning she'd made sure that her disapproval was known. Janos had agreed to her: he didn't speak much, but his eyes said it all. She remembered her father yelling at them, insisting that Lorna wasn't going anywhere, and that if they didn't like it then they could leave. Lorna had been able to hear it all the way from her room, opening the door a crack and peeking at the argument. It was one of the things that had endeared her to her father, that he would fight for her. Only her mother had ever done that.

She'd seen the argument with Mystique in much the same way. Lorna'd had another nightmare and had wanted her father's comfort. She'd gone to his room and waited outside the door. She'd heard Mystique saying that Lorna was far too young to be with them, that it was too dangerous to cart around a child. Mystique had said that they should put her at Westchester.

Lorna hadn't known where or what Westchester was back then. The idea of being sent away had terrified her though. She'd squeezed her eyes shut, silently pleading with her father not to make her go somewhere new. Lorna had wanted to stay with the father that cared about her, the last family she had.

His response had been thunderous, almost more venomous than what it had been with Emma and Janos. Lorna hadn't known that he'd been together with Mystique at the time although, looking back, it made sense. His venom was understandable, as was hers. Mystique hadn't been ready to act as a mother that her lover'd had with another woman.

She might have been if she'd been convinced of his affections. She hadn't been though, and Lorna had listened to what she had later realized was the end of the relationship between Mystique and her father. He'd apologized that he didn't care about her like she should, and Mystique had, rather understandably, been upset. Mystique had accused her father of clinging to the past, that, in all likelihood, Lorna's mother had died hating him for leaving her.

Lorna knew that it wasn't true, and she'd bitten her lip listening to it. Her mother wouldn't have left her with someone who she hated. Her father's voice had become dangerously low and he'd said that he'd known she'd forgiven him, that she had never held a grudge. When Mystique had demanded to know how, he'd said the words that had stuck in Lorna's memory.

"Because she named her Lorna. After my mother."

Mystique left then. Lorna had scrambled out of the way so she wouldn't be noticed. When Mystique had left she'd gone back to her own room, shaken yet somehow stronger. The nightmares had slowed after that: Lorna knew that she wasn't going anywhere. He was keeping her there no matter what Emma, Janos, and Mystique had to say about it. Lorna had known that she had found a home.

Her father had provided a home, and Azazel's natural fondness for children had provided her with a teacher. Angel's enthusiasm had given her a friend and, one by one, the other members of the Brotherhood had come around. Even Mystique had accepted her, although she supposed that her long-lasting romance with Azazel helped. They had never been friends, nor was it likely that they ever would be, but they were alright.

Lorna looked across at Azazel and smiled to herself. She had become part of the Brotherhood. She had a family and a home with them. Lorna also had a purpose in life, a cause to fight for. As she handed him the four he put it down amongst his own cards, finishing his hand. If that meant that she had to do the dishes a few more times than she thought was fair, well, it was a small price to pay.


	6. Chapter 6

February 17, 1974

Sean looked at the office. It never ceased to surprise him how beauracratized and orderly Westchester had become since he'd left. He remembered the days when Hank had trailed pieces of notebook paper from the lab to the kitchen, the pieces sticking on people's shoes. Alex had once stuck gum under the tables and he was guilty of leaving more than one mess in the hopes that someone else would clean it up.

Across the office he watched as Moira finished some enrollment paperwork as David played in a small play pen. He remembered being told that, under no circumstances, would Moira be that person. None of them had expected her to be their housekeeper, they'd seen her fire a gun to many times to expect that sort of thing, but she had made sure that none of the incoming students had that expectation either. She was quite terrifying when angered.

He sat down and looked at the forms in front of him. It appeared that, no matter how straight-forward Alex's job seemed, he had quite a stack of paperwork that he did. He kept track of all of their times on runs, the number of sit-ups they'd done, and if there was any marked improvement. There were also notes on their level of teamwork, and a few notes on personal developments between them.

Sean had read, with a great mixture of incredulity and curiosity, about a love-triangle that had appeared a year or so ago between Scott, Jean, and Warren. Alex had resolved to stay out of it, despite the fact that it had included his brother. He'd given them lectures on keeping such things out of their missions, of how they were friends and teammates. Warren had still remained hostile to Scott afterwards, although it appeared that the two had since reconciled.

He wondered if Charles had done the same thing when he'd been an X-man. It made sense that he would be keeping tabs on their personal development, since any problems could affect their performance. Beyond that they could need help, and Sean knew that Charles had always seemed to know when to step in. Alex was taking the same approach, and perhaps Charles had advised him to do it, although he doubted if Charles had written it down.

He shifted the forms, feeling a little lost. He'd meant it when he'd said that Alex should get out for a while. It wasn't good for him to stay shut up in his own little world of the X-men and the Brotherhood forever. Alex had genuinely enjoyed studying to be a geologist, and he shouldn't have abandoned it in favor of being an X-man forever.

However, Sean should have read the fine print a bit more intently before he offered to take over. He put the forms down and rubbed his temples.

"Confusing?"

He looked up and saw Moira smiling at him, her pen resting on the desk.

"A little bit, yeah," he said.

"You must have filled out your share of paperwork at Interpol," Moira said.

"Not like this," Sean said.

Moira got up and stood next to him. She read over her shoulder and pointed to the spaces.

"You should put down their run time here," she said.

"I thought it went on the next form," Sean said.

"No, that's the five mile run," Moira said, "It's Tuesday, so they must have done their two mile run, right?"

Sean nodded.

"How do you keep track of all of this?" he asked.

Moira shrugged.

"I just do," she said.

Sean didn't say anything. He remembered what Alex had said about wondering how Moira managed it all. He shook his head and looked at the forms.

"Looks like there's a lot of work in what Alex does," he said.

"He's come a long way from being that ex-con that we all got frustrated at," Moira said.

"He's a soldier now," Sean said.

She glanced at him.

"You don't approve?" she asked.

"Do you?" Sean said, "I just…feel like he never moved on."

Moira crossed her arms thoughtfully.

"I think that when he finds a reason to move on, he will," Moira said, "Charles told me that he needs to decide his own path."

"He's like that," Sean said.

"I know," Moira said.

"And you agree with that?" Sean said.

"It's hard to argue with that kind of thinking," Moira said.

She smiled ruefully.

"However," she said, "I always figured he'd find a reason before now. Maybe he'll figure it out when his brother takes over the X-men."

"He certainly does have the potential," Sean admitted.

Moira nodded.

"I think he wants to be just like Alex sometimes," she said, "But he's doing a pretty good job of being himself, so I don't think Alex is too concerned."

"Really?" Sean asked, "Because right now he looks a lot like a mini-Alex without a criminal background."

Moira laughed and shook her head.

"You haven't been around Scott that long," she said, "But he's rather different."

"How so?" Sean asked.

"Well, for one," Moira said, "He's dating Jean. And he's quite serious about it. I'm under the impression that she's his first girlfriend."

Sean winced. Alex's track record with girlfriends was rather poor, and while some of them had been interested in taking the next step, Alex had never been.

"Point taken," he said.

Moira grinned and Sean looked back down at the forms. The phone on her desk rang. She walked over and picked it up.

"Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Dean of student relations Moira Xavier," she said.

Her face brightened immediately.

"Hank!" she said.

Sean looked up and put his pen down.

"It's nice to hear from you," she said, "What's going on?"

He watched as she tilted her head, a soft smile spreading across her face.

"Oh Hank, that's wonderful," she said.

She continued to listen to him and shook her head.

"Sorry," she said, "Charles is in the middle of one of his classes. As I understand it they're debating today, so they might run a little late. He'll be out in two hours or so though."

She tucked the phone beneath her ear and nodded.

"You're in luck there actually," Moira said, "He's right here. Alex went out to a geology conference and Sean stayed behind to fill out the paperwork."

She laughed.

"Yes, Sean managed to convince him to leave the Institute," she said, "Amazing, isn't it?"

Moira listened as she gestured Sean to get up. He walked over and stood next to her, smiling. The last time he'd seen Hank it had been on TV, waving to the crowds with Carly next to him. They had been triumphant in their case, establishing that the fourteenth amendment applied to mutants too, and Carly's pregnancy had only underlined their victory.

Now he could only imagine Hank's excitement growing with Carly's stomach. He'd wanted a family for so long. Sean could feel the pangs of sadness deep inside him: he'd wanted a family too. However, he could settle for watching his friend gain the happiness that had eluded him.

"Alright, well keep in touch Hank," Moira said.

She handed Sean the phone just as David began banging on the blocks of his play pen with a block. Moira walked over and picked him up.

"Yes yes, time for your nap," she said, "I know David, I know."

She shifted David.

"He always wants things to happen on time," Moira said, "If I'm just a minute off he starts crying. He's so fussy."

She shook her head and shifted David.

"You're so much like your father," she said.

Sean laughed as Moira walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. He put the phone beneath his ear.

"Hey Hank," Sean said.

"Sean," Hank said, "congratulations."

"On what?" Sean asked.

"Getting Alex out of Westchester," Hank said, "I thought nothing less than a nuclear war would do that."

"It wasn't easy, but I managed to lead up to it," Sean said, "It's just a week, so don't call in a parade just yet."

"I'm not the parade type," Hank said.

He heard him shift the phone.

"So, we got the results back from the sonogram," he said.

Sean grinned.

"Is that why you called?" he asked.

"Pretty much," Hank said.

"So come on and tell me," Sean said, "What's the gender of the new little McCoy coming into the world?"

He could hear Hank hesitate. His friend was excited, but he seemed almost nervous too. It was the only reason he would pause; Sean remembered his numerous pauses back even before he had further mutated himself. Sean frowned, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't say anything he mustered up a laugh.

"Come on," he said, "Don't keep me in suspense!"

"It's going to be a girl Sean," Hank said.

Sean felt his blood freeze. He swallowed, trying to find his bearings. He knew he shouldn't be so shocked; children were either boys or girls so Hank's child had a good chance of being a girl. Hank's pause should have clued him in as well. He had always been considerate, always knowing that his new marriage and Carly's pregnancy would remind Sean of what he had lost.

However, it had also been Carly's pregnancy, saving her from the Friends of Humanity, that had prompted him to return to Westchester and properly mourn the wife and daughter that he had lost. He had wanted to make sure that Hank didn't go through the same pain that he did, didn't lose the future that had loomed in front of him.

Sean had sworn that he was going to be better, to try and move on with his life while still honoring the memory of his wife and unborn daughter. At the same time, the idea that Carly was carrying a little girl, that Hank would have a daughter, stopped him in his tracks and left him feeling like someone had taken the ground from him.

He still remembered the doctor's office, of Maeve hearing that she was going to have a little girl. The doctors had given the two of them disapproving looks, but even that couldn't dampen Maeve's spirits. She'd chatted about outnumbering Sean, about braiding her little girl's hair. She'd even told him what she wanted to name the baby: Theresa.

He struggled for a moment before gaining mastery of himself. He couldn't feel like this every time someone had a child, every time someone managed to get a family. It wasn't fair to anyone, and he had sworn that he was going to continue on with his life. He had been given the closest thing to closure he could ever have when he had assisted in Carly's rescue. He was not going to have a better chance to turn his life around.

"That's great Hank," he said.

He swallowed.

"You're going to be outnumbered," he said.

"I'm sure I'll manage," Hank said.

On the other end of the phone Hank hesitated again.

"Sean, Carly and I have been talking," he said, "And…well…we were wondering if you'd like to be godfather."

Sean felt tears prick his eyes. His grip on the phone tightened.

"You played such a part in making this happen," he said.

"It wasn't just me in that building that night," Sean said, feeling his voice faltering, "You would have gotten there in about ten minutes."

"Anything could have happened to her in ten minutes," Hank said, "And…you've always been such a good friend Sean."

Sean struggled to keep his emotions under check and failed. He felt the tears streaming down his eyes and his hand clench into a fist.

"Sean?" Hank asked, his voice worried, "Are you-?"

"I'm fine," Sean said.

He pushed back the rest of his tears and took a deep breath.

"It's alright," Sean said.

He closed his eyes.

"I would be honored," he said.


	7. Chapter 7

February 18, 1974

"When are the others getting back?" Lorna asked.

"A few hours," Azazel shrugged.

She sighed.

"You are moping."

"I'm not," Lorna said, "I just don't see why they have to go off and do God knows and leave us here, again."

"That is not all."

"It is."

She tapped her pencil on the codes that she was trying to decode. Azazel sat down across from her and rested his chin on his hands. She saw his tail twitch behind him. Lorna looked away from him to the couch where Terry was sleeping. She hadn't said anything, but Lorna knew that she wanted to be around people who weren't her uncle.

When she looked back she found that Azazel was still looking at her.

"I am not stupid," he said.

Lorna pursed her lips. She put her pencil down and drummed her fingers on the table.

"I just, hm," she said.

She looked back at Terry. she wouldn't be able to hear her.

"I really hate Black Tom," she said, "Really, really hate him."

Azazel nodded.

"This is because of Terry, da?" he asked.

"He's just really cruel to her," Lorna said, "Why does a man like that even have a child with him! It's obvious he doesn't care for her!"

Azazel tilted his head, inviting her to go on. She could feel the words bursting from her lips, although she checked that Terry was still fast asleep. Lorna also did a quick check to make sure that Black Tom wasn't coming down the stairs. She wouldn't put it past him to come down when she was talking about him.

"I'm sure he hits her," Lorna said, "She never says anything, but I'm sure of it. She deserves better than that. I don't care if he's her uncle."

Azazel nodded again.

"And this is bothering you?" he asked.

His blank expression irritated her. Her father had once discussed that, while he had never raised a hand to her, not every household functioned that way. Lorna had conceded this point grudgingly, but she knew that what Black Tom did went far beyond that.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Lorna said.

He paused, his tail twitching.

"Lorna, not every parent loves child," he said.

His voice was quiet. Lorna swallowed. She didn't know much about Azazel's past, but she had the feeling that it hadn't been good.

"Lorna, you are loved," he said, "You have been loved forever by someone. It is hard for you to understand there is nyet love sometimes."

She closed her eyes for a moment. She could remember when she was young and her father gathered her up in his arms. Eleven was too old to be carried, but her bruised and battered body wouldn't let her walk. He'd spoken calm, gentle words that had solidified her original belief; she could trust this strange man.

It had only seemed logical when she'd found out that this man was her father. She opened her eyes again and looked at Azazel.

"I know," Lorna said, "But…he should let us love her if he can't."

"Da," Azazel said, "Da. Which is why otets does not become angry when you interfere."

"I don't even want him to be on the team," Lorna said.

"He is disgusting," Azazel agreed, "But we need him."

"We shouldn't," Lorna said.

"But we do," Azazel said, "And what will you do? Take Terry?"

Lorna hesitated.

"If she says yes," Lorna said.

Azazel blinked.

"He hurts her, and I can't protect her from that all the time," Lorna said, "Not when he's still technically her guardian. In any other place they'd have taken her away from him."

"Maybe nyet. And if do? Put her in foster," Azazel said, "Not good place."

"But she can stay with us," Lorna said, "I don't think anyone doesn't like Terry. If bad comes to worse we can put her at Westchester."

The word was said with a small degree of bitterness. Lorna would want to keep Terry with her, wouldn't want to make it look like she was abandoning her. However, if it was either put her at Westchester or let her stay with Black Tom then she would put her in Westchester. They were kind there, if rather naïve.

Azazel continued to stare at her.

"You have thought about this?" he asked.

"I can't help it," Lorna said, "She came to me the other night because she had nightmares and she's so gentle. I wouldn't trust Black Tom to take care of a cockroach let alone her."

"I would not either, but this?" he asked.

Lorna looked down at the table

"I just want her to be happy," she said.

"Da, I know," Azazel said, "You have tender heart sometimes."

"I'll work on fixing that," she said.

Azazel laughed and Lorna managed to laugh with him. She looked up and saw that he was smiling at her.

"Talk to otets," he said, "He will approve, I am sure."

He laughed.

"He does anything you ask," he said.

"Not anything," Lorna said, "I wasn't allowed to drive until I was seventeen."

"Well, anything but that," Azazel said.

Lorna smirked and looked down at the pages of code. Across from her Azazel lounged in his chair, picking up a book and beginning to read. Sometimes it was funny how domestic things could get in the Brotherhood. The domesticity only came after long hours of training, but it was nice. It amused her that the X-men seemed to think that they were some sort of team of evil operatives. For all the time they spent in a school they didn't know anything.

She finished up with her page and flipped it to the next one. She had just put her pencil to the paper when she heard a crash from upstairs. Terry woke and looked up blearily. Lorna frowned and put her pencil down. She could see that Azazel had set down his book and was staring at the upstairs intently.

"I think Black Tom might have fallen down or something," Lorna said.

"Too big," Azazel said.

He teleported to the other side of the room where he kept his swords. Lorna got up and stood in front of Terry, staring at the upstairs. A second later Azazel teleported next to her.

"What's going on?" Terry asked.

"I don't know yet," Lorna said.

She shared a glance with Azazel. He jerked his head up and pointed at himself. Lorna nodded and he teleported away in a cloud of black smoke. Terry looked after him, drawing her knees up to her chest. Lorna wished that she could just believe that the crash was Black Tom tumbling around in a drunken stupor or something. His limp didn't help him. Azazel had been right though, it had been too big, and anything strange that happened at the Brotherhood's headquarters was never good.

There were a few small noises. Lorna flexed her fingers, maneuvering herself so that, if anything happened, she would block Terry from it. She had her coat around her shoulders, her gear in the Kevlar vest that her father had always insisted that she use. Lorna could feel the metal of Azazel's knives laced into it.

A second later she saw Azazel crash down from the balcony, his body splintering the wooden rails. He teleported before he hit the ground and the first of the soldiers came. She threw her hand out, sensing for the metal in their guns. To her surprise she couldn't sense any, and for a moment she felt a brief sensation of panic.

It melted away before the first soldier opened fire. Lorna grabbed Terry and launched herself behind the couch. She could feel the heat rays begin to melt the cloth and feathers. Terry started crying and Lorna wagered a look above the couch to where more soldiers were amassing, their guns shooting lasers.

Lorna wrapped her arms around Terry and bounded into the next room, which happened to be the kitchen. She put her fingers to her lips as she settled Terry down.

"You stay here," she said, "Okay? Just stay here, and if someone comes, then hide in one of the cabinets. I know you can fit. Understand?"

Terry nodded. Lorna moved to go and Terry grabbed Lorna's sleeve, her eyes big. Lorna managed a smile.

"I'll be fine, but I have to go and help Azazel," she said, "You look out for yourself, okay?"

Without another word she pried Terry's fingers off her coat and dived into the fray. She dodged the first few blasts and pulled the knives out of her vest. There were four of them, sharp to the touch and nearly as big as her forearm. They were fairly thin, but they were made entirely out of metal. Her father had said that she could never have enough of it about her person.

Lorna threw them into the air and sent them at the soldiers. She guided them to slash their throats. Three of them fell but the fourth one managed to dodge it. Lorna sent it at his stomach instead before summoning them back to her. She slotted two of them into her vest and grabbed the other two with her gloved hands.

She charged out, seeing Azazel on the other side of the room. More soldiers were pouring in and Lorna slashed into the first one that she could. Another soldier shot at her and she dodged the blast, tucking the second knife into her vest. She brought her fist up and followed it with a kick to his abdomen. He fell and she punched him in the face, feeling his nose break beneath her fist.

More soldiers came in from a different door. Lorna looked at the table. The fittings were made of metal. It was enough. She sent it flying at the men, knocking them to the ground and trapping them beneath its weight. Another soldier grabbed her around the waist and Lorna flung her head back. It connected with his forehead and he let go. She brought her other knife around and stabbed him before moving on.

She tackled a fifth soldier and applied pressure to the hand holding his gun. With a little bit of difficulty it snapped. Lorna took a deep gulp of air before she reached Azazel's side, holding the knife in front of her and watching as more soldiers poured into the living room, some from the upstairs balcony and others from different doors.

Lorna counted them as they trained their guns on the two of them. Fifteen in all. She could almost laugh with relief. It was just fifteen, and it appeared that none of them were mutants. No one else was coming in. It wasn't perfect, but it was definitely manageable. She glanced over at Azazel, who nodded, a smirk playing around his lips.

It was almost like one of their missions.

"Left or right?" he murmured.

She looked over at the left, the way that they were all close to the kitchen, to Terry.

"Definitely left," Lorna said, narrowing her eyes.

He teleported away and Lorna threw herself to the ground as the soldiers opened fire. She slotted the last knife into its place in her vest as she approached the soldiers. Her legs were more powerful than her arms and she kicked into the first. Another brought his gun around and Lorna grabbed his arm, slotting her finger into place and pulling the trigger on his fellow soldiers. Three dropped before another brought his gun and leveled it at her.

She pulled the soldier in front of her, allowing him to absorb most of the blast. The laser still singed her shoulder and she felt the heat through her coat. The lasers were powerful. They were going to have to look into that later. She didn't know if the government had sent the soldiers, and she didn't really care at the moment.

Lorna threw the dead soldier to the ground before leaping at the one that had fired. He didn't have time to bring his gun around again. Her fingers fit perfectly around his neck. All she had to do was twist and he was down. Lorna rolled to avoid more blasts, kicking and punching her way through the throng.

Azazel had taught her that fighting was a dance, one that was done best when it was done simply. Her partners were her opponents, all of them obstacles that she was trying to move through. Grace was important, but winning was the only thing that really mattered.

There was more to fighting than simply dancing though. Her father had taught her that. The metal thrummed in her hands, sending a grounding, stable feeling to her arms. She slashed out and guided the knives, feeling as though she were conducting an orchestra and dancing to the beat at the same time.

From across the room she saw Azazel. He was bathed in blood, sulphur thick in the air. His swords were gone, stuck in two of the soldiers, but he was still snapping necks and slitting their throats with his tail. As she watched she saw Black Tom stumble across the balcony to the top of the stairs. Lorna kicked another soldier and snorted to herself. He had taken his time.

Azazel teleported next to him, shouting something. Black Tom nodded before thrusting his shillelagh out and hitting Azazel with a blast of heat that sent him into a wall. The heat burned into his flesh and for a minute her heart stopped.

"Azazel!" Lorna screamed.

She fought off the two soldiers around her and began racing for the stairs. Lorna sent feelers out, but she couldn't find any metal on Black Tom. There was no metal where they were: Azazel's swords were still back on teh first floor. As she watched Black Tom sent another blast of heat into Azazel's stomach, the smell of hot blood and burned flesh filling the air along with Azazel's cry.

Lorna reached them and grabbed Black Tom by the back of his coat. She threw him down the stairs and crouched by Azazel, not bothering to see where Black Tom fell. Her hands hovered above Azazel, uncertain what to do. His blood was coming out hot and fast, burbling from his wound and lips.

"It's okay," Lorna said.

She looked at his wound, wondering where she was supposed to start. Angel had prepped her on how to deal with an injury, but not one this big. All she knew was that he shouldn't be losing so much blood. That wasn't good. Lorna ripped her coat and began trying to stop the blood flow, the blood soaking the purple cloth and turning it black. Azazel made a strangled noise with his throat and Lorna winced.

"It's going to be okay," she said.

Something hard hit her head. She collapsed to the floor as someone booted her in the stomach. A second later Black Tom's shillelagh hit her head again. She struggled to her feet and, disoriented, lashed out with one of her knives. She saw a deep slash appear from one side of his face to the other, blood leaking out from it.

He howled as she tried to get her bearings. A second later he grabbed her hair and slammed her, face first, into the balcony's railings. As she blacked out she heard:

"No it damn well won't be."


	8. Chapter 8

February 19, 1974

"Not much new to report," Emma said, "The other team is doing well in Bayville, although the watch on Kelly's house is proving uneventful. Toad isn't doing great, but I believe that Avalanche has some real potential."

"I hoped Avalanche's influence would rub off on him. We might have to give them some adult supervision, but the mission is not currently a top priority," Erik said, "It just needs to be on surveillance. We can cut back on the members soon."

Emma nodded.

"As for current events, well," Emma said, "I'm not sure whether or not you'd be interested in Watergate."

"Perhaps later," Erik said.

He cracked his neck. Angel drove the car back, humming softly to herself. She was good at finding back alleys that would shake any tail that they might have. Behind him Janos and Mystique were exhausted. He knew that Janos's wrist was twisted. It had been a close call, and one that could have been avoided. He'd already had a talk with him though, and he was sure that he wouldn't be charging into anything any time soon.

Mystique just looked eager to be back. He didn't blame her: he wanted to be back too. It was so early that it was still dark out, the early hours of the morning only compounding his desire to return. Lorna would be surprised to see him back so soon, that their mission had been completed as quickly as it had.

The thought of his daughter made him smile. Lorna was a promising fighter, strong in both physically and in her convictions. She was just the type of person he could feel comfortable leading members of the Brotherhood. Azazel had done his job well when it had come to Lorna. Erik took some credit as well though; her powers were almost as advanced as his had been at her age, and no madman had ever tortured her.

She had been through plenty, but it had only served to make her stronger, more convicted. He looked over at Emma.

"She doesn't know that I'm coming back tonight, does she?" he asked.

"I told her that you were coming back soon," Emma said, "But I didn't say when."

She laughed.

"You know me Magneto," she said, "I didn't tell anyone exactly when you were coming back. It's why Angel was so surprised."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"You know that Lorna would be trustworthy," he said.

"Of course I know," Emma said, "But I figured you'd want to surprise her."

She glanced over at him.

"You did so like to do it when she was younger," she said, "I remember when she was thirteen and burst into tears when you came home for her birthday after saying you wouldn't be able to make it."

Her voice was slightly dry. Erik frowned.

"Something you want to say Emma?" he asked.

"Not really, no," Emma said.

He shook his head.

"I know you better than that," he said, "And I know you want me to ask."

Emma shrugged.

"She just seems a little old to have these sorts of surprises," Emma said.

Erik shook his head.

"You always were very judgmental," he said.

"I'm just wondering when you're going to let her do some extended field work," Emma said, "She's primarily smash and grab right now, isn't she?"

"I'll give her those kinds of jobs when the time is right," he said.

"Which should have been around five years ago," Emma said, "And yet you're still treating her like she's a child."

Erik gave her a cold look.

"Forgive me if I don't take parenting advice from you," he said.

Emma shrugged again and looked out the window. Erik turned away from her and rubbed his temples. Emma was a constant headache, even when he knew that she wasn't using her telepathy. How he parented Lorna was his own concern: not Emma's. He would decide what missions she went on. He'd know when she was ready.

Angel turned a corner and stopped humming.

"My God," she whispered.

Erik looked up sharply. He could see a faint flickering from behind the tinted glass. He yanked open the door and saw that the house was on fire, the flames reaching towards the sky. Without even a thought he took off towards the house, his feet pounding on the ground and his heart in his throat.

He had already lost someone to one burning house. He was never coming that close again.

"Lorna!" he yelled.

There was no response. He could hear the others rushing out of the car behind him, their footfalls muffled by the grass.

"Lorna!" he yelled again.

A soft explosion to his left made him whip his head around. Azazel collapsed to the ground, one of his hands just managing to keep his charred intestines inside his body, blood coming between his fingertips. Mystique screamed and Erik dropped down next to Azazel. Part of his mind couldn't fathom who could possibly do this to his most skilled assassin, that there had to be some trick to it. The other part of his brain told him that Azazel was dying.

The pangs he felt for his fallen friend were interspersed with a deeper kind of panic: Azazel hadn't teleported out with Lorna. His eyes darted between Azazel and the building, unsure of what to do. If he'd teleported out than he wouldn't have left Lorna behind. Azazel cared far too much about her.

"What happened?" Erik asked, "Where's Lorna?"

Azazel tried to form an answer, but blood trickled out of his lips instead. Mystique dropped next to Azazel, cradling his head in her lap.

"He needs a doctor," Mystique said.

"He's too far gone."

Emma's tone was flat and empty. Mystique snarled at her and Emma gave her an even glance. She looked past her at Azazel, who jerked his head up. Emma closed her eyes for a second. Erik saw tears gather beneath her lashes but she brushed them away before opening her eyes and turning to Mystique.

"I'd say you have about eight minutes," she said, "Don't waste them."

Mystique stared at her, a cry of protest on her lips. Azazel's blood-stained hand gripped hers, stopping her in her tracks. She looked down at him and Erik looked at Emma, who was tapping her head. He nodded and visions flooded his mind of the attack on the building, of Black Tom's betrayal.

He saw as Terry was dragged from the kitchen, how his daughter had been lifted onto one of the soldier's shoulders, struggling to regain her consciousness. Erik watched as Black Tom hit her over the head again before taking a match to the place, Azazel's injuries preventing him from helping. He watched as Azazel fought to gain enough strength to teleport. He had just managed it as they had arrived.

Erik looked over at Azazel, his face now awash with Mystique's tears. He had never seen her cry so much. Erik put his hand on Azazel's shoulder, his heart beating with the force of his anger, the loss of a friend, and the idea that his daughter might very well be dead too. He forced his voice to come out steady.

"We'll get her back," he said, "You've done well old friend."

Azazel's lips twisted in a pained parody of a smile, showing his bloodstained teeth. His eyes turned to Mystique as she held him closer. Erik got to his feet and turned away, giving the two their privacy for the last few minutes of Azazel's life. He waited, feeling the heat of the fire on his back. Mystique's scream told him that he was gone and Erik took a deep breath.

He looked at the rest of the Brotherhood, their eyes wide at the catastrophe at the mansion. Erik glanced down at Mystique, prostrate with grief. He tilted his head higher.

"Black Tom did this," he said.

He saw them exchange confused, furtive glances. Erik tilted his chin higher.

"We're going to find him," he said, "We're going to get my daughter back, and we're going to rip him limb from limb."

A chorus of determined nods met his words, their eyes drifting back to Azazel's form. Erik couldn't look though; they needed to get out of there before the police arrived. He didn't want to deal with them at the moment. Part of that meant that he wasn't going to mourn. It wasn't the time.

Not when Lorna was still in danger.

* * *

South Dakota was fascinating. Alex had always found it so in his research. He'd been interested by geology, although originally he'd only taken it as an elective to get Charles off his back about his reluctance to participate in academic pursuits. Despite his initial anger over having to take a class that was somewhere between geography and science, he'd become fascinated by it.

Alex was sure that it wasn't something that he should be too interested in at first. Hank had been the geeky one, the kind of person who would go on and on about rocks of all things. However, as time went by he found himself wanting to talk to Hank about things that he'd read, to have a discussion with someone that he could argue about issues with.

Upon getting his degree he'd felt proud, as though he had accomplished something special. He'd had little intention of using the degree though. Alex had always figured that someone should stay behind to train the next generation of X-men. Hank had his research and Sean was too broken to do it. He was the only one of the first class who could fulfill the roll.

So he'd gotten comfortable in Westchester over the years. There were other reasons about why he continued with the X-men, but he could admit that Westchester was familiar. It was irritating to see everyone pushing him to try to get a life out of the school though. If he wanted to go and do that then he would. Right now his life was much too busy for that sort of thing. When things calmed down he would think about it.

As he stepped into the conference hall he had to admit that he was enjoying the idea of returning to what had caught his attention all those years ago. He was enjoying the idea of having a little bit of time outside of the Institute, a time where he didn't have to be the one on constant watch for the sake of his kind.

He sat in on a lecture, feeling rather strange. If his fifteen-year-old-self could see him he would be incredulous. Alex had to chuckle a little himself. It was strange that he could enjoy these sorts of things, that going to an academic conference could be considered a vacation for him. Since when had he become Hank?

Alex shook his head as the lecturer stepped up to the podium. He wasn't going to think like that. There was no one that he had to pretend to be a certain way in front of: there hadn't been for over a decade. He was in South Dakota to enjoy himself, to take a break from what had consumed his life for eleven years.

He settled back in his seat. He was aware that the conference was changing how he saw his current situation, at least by a little. Alex knew that it wasn't going to change anything long-term though. He was an X-man through and through, and his place was at Westchester. Nothing more. It would take something much bigger than a mere conference to make him consider leaving.

* * *

Lorna coughed. She flexed her wrists. They'd used plastic handcuffs on her, far too tight for her to slip out of. They chafed against her hands. They had taken her coat and Kevlar vest. Lorna wondered where they were, wanted them back. She wanted to feel some metal somewhere, something she could use to get out of the cell, find Black Tom, and rip him limb from limb.

She wasn't an idiot. She knew that Azazel was badly injured. If there had been a doctor nearby then he'd stood a slender chance of surviving. That slender chance had been taken away when Black Tom had knocked her out, if there had ever been one. He was probably dead now, killed by one of their own.

It was hard not to cry at that thought, but she refused to let them see her weak. She could hear them outside of the cell, their voices drifting into her ears.

"…think she's still out?"

"Does it matter? We're just supposed to drop her off in South Dakota. Nuthin' else. Glad we got that stupid brat off though."

Lorna took in a shuddering breath, her anger sending chills up and down her arms. She could hear them talk about trivial things after that, but it didn't penetrate more than the surface of her mind. They had taken Terry too. It was no matter. Lorna was going to get out. She was going to find Terry, and then she was going to find Black Tom. After that she was going to make sure that Azazel had justice. Her father had taught her to never let a death go unpunished.

She flexed her hands. She had been trained on what to do if she was captured. Her father had made sure of that too. If they tried to torture her than she knew how to resist. Lorna knew how to look for an opportunity to escape, how to use her environment to her advantage. She was not going to be a complacent hostage.

South Dakota was it? Lorna allowed herself a bitter grin, her eyes narrowed. They had no idea whose daughter they were dealing with.


	9. Chapter 9

February 19, 1974

Terry curled up, her knees tucked under her chin and her red hair spilling around her like a blanket. She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked herself back and forth. She didn't know what was going on, but she'd seen her uncle murder Azazel. The image was burned into her mind, as well as the sound of Lorna screaming his name.

She'd watched as he'd knocked out Lorna too, the slash that she had made on his face. She'd wanted to warn her, but Terry had been beside herself with fear, her voice stuck in the back of her throat. For a moment she'd feared that he was going to kill Lorna too. Then he turned and had them tie her up, his eyes searching her out.

Terry had pushed herself into the furthest corner of the kitchen, but he had dragged her out. He hadn't said anything to her, but she knew better than to think that he wasn't angry. He'd thrown her into a car and, once they started driving, had started speaking in a low tone, his voice sharp. He began trying to mop up the blood on his face, but gave up after a minute, letting it dribble down onto his coat.

Tentative inquiries about Lorna had forced their way out of Terry's lips, and he'd slapped her for it. They had arrived somewhere, and he'd locked her into what she figured was a closet. It wasn't too small, and there were a few blankets in there, but it was dark. She had to close her eyes to try and pretend that there was some light somewhere.

She wondered what he was going to do with Lorna. Terry hoped that he wasn't going to hurt her. She hadn't done anything to him. They'd argued in the past, but nothing that would make her uncle want to kill her. Then again, Azazel hadn't done anything to him either. Terry stifled a sob and pushed her nose into her knees.

Terry struggled to keep herself calm. There was no time for crying. Her uncle hated it when she cried. He told her she shouldn't be crying, that she should be grateful. Terry dug her fingernails into her legs. She was going to leave marks, but she was already marked from where he'd hit her, from the bruise that was forming on her arm. There were older scars from when she was younger, when he hadn't moderated his hand so much.

He hated her. Terry had no idea why he hated her. She hadn't done anything. He never told her anything about her parents, except that her mother was dead and her father was a fool. Maybe that had something to do with it. She supposed it didn't matter; she couldn't do anything about it. It was obvious that he hated her much more than he hated Azazel. Perhaps she was next.

The thought terrified her and she tried to curl up even further. She couldn't, and shivers were starting to make their way up her arms and legs. Terry forced herself to uncurl herself so she could grope around in the dark for the blankets that he had thrown into the room. After a few minutes she found one.

Terry wrapped it around herself and curled up on the floor. She'd slept on worse surfaces when her uncle got mad at her for her hair being too bright or her freckles too prominent. It was just more to support her theory that her uncle hated her. Terry knew that it was probably unlikely that he would have kept her around for so long if he hated her as much as he did, but she couldn't think about that.

She stifled another sob. Terry looked around her, the dark space scaring her. There was no Lorna that she could go to for comfort. There was no one to comfort her anymore. It was just like it had been before her uncle had brought her to the Brotherhood. She'd thought that things would get better. She'd been wrong.

Terry swallowed. She had a shaky understanding of God. Before the Brotherhood she'd only been aware of it as a curse word. Lorna had been explaining it to her, although she wasn't sure if she really understood much of what she said. Lorna had told her that he loved her, and Terry needed someone who was going to love her.

She looked around. She didn't know if her uncle would be happy to hear her. He didn't like anyone who loved or cared about her. When she was satisfied that he wasn't near, she leaned her head down again. Her hands dug into the thin carpet, continuing to swallow. She scrounged as much courage as she could before speaking.

"Please," she whispered, "I don't wanna die here."

The words were strangled as they came out of her lips. She wanted to continue, but she was struck with how selfish she was being. Terry swallowed.

"And Lorna," she said, "Please help her."

She closed her eyes again and pulled the blanket over her head.

"Please."

* * *

Alex stretched and walked out of the lecture hall. He'd met a few of his friends from his academic correspondences. The good, satisfied feeling, had spread and he felt like he was in a decent mood. He had no desire to call the Institute to find out if everything was alright for once, and he felt that Sean was doing a good job.

It made him wonder if this was what vacations were supposed to feel like. His last few vacations had actually been group retreats. He remembered when he'd taken the team to do a group bonding experience in the mountains. He'd insisted that Warren not use his wings when climbing. He hadn't liked it, but Clarice hadn't been allowed to teleport either.

He chuckled at the thought, but it hadn't really been a vacation. He'd mostly stayed at Westchester during the summer along with his brother. He remembered the summer where he'd taught him how to drive a motorcycle, followed by a regular car. Those were good times, but there had been pockets of work interspersed with their relaxation time.

Alex wondered if Charles ever got such satisfaction from a vacation. He'd probably enjoy it more: he had a wife and son after all. He could imagine the type of postcard vacations that would generate. It would be a little different though. David was very young and Charles was in a wheelchair. They would enjoy it though.

He tried to remember the last time the Xaviers had taken a vacation. He frowned when he realized that he couldn't remember it. They had been gone for two weeks for their honeymoon, but that had been over a decade ago. There had to be another time. Surely they had gone somewhere after David had been born? No, that had just been Moira's recuperation period. He couldn't think of any other time that they had been absent from the Institute.

His frown deepened. No wonder Moira looked so stressed and Charles's hair was thinning. When he got back he'd have a quiet word with him. He could run the Institute for a week or two while they went out. The small family needed some time with each other, a small break from the running of the school.

Alex smiled: he liked that thought. He walked outside of the convention center and stretched. The sun was warm and he liked the way it felt. He didn't like wearing a business suit, it was always too stuffy, but it was expected of him. He'd had a part to play when he'd accompanied Charles or Moira on their recruitment trips. As such he'd learned to tie his own tie and at least look like suits he didn't think that suits were highly uncomfortable.

He looked at his watch. It was another two hours before the next lecture that he wanted to attend. It was enough time to grab some lunch and catch some rest at his hotel. There was a good bagel place two blocks down that he'd been to once. He shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking down the street, whistling slightly to himself. South Dakota really was nice even though it was February.

His feet tapped against the pavement as the noises of the city filtered around him. He saw a few children run past and a motorcycle zoomed past him. Alex eyed it for a moment before dismissing it. It wasn't a good model, and it looked like the owner had put it through hell. People like that shouldn't be allowed to own any cycle, no matter the year and model.

A truck rattled past him, the wheels bouncing and groaning under enormous weight. He didn't think too much of it until he saw a similar one follow it. Alex stopped and watched the two of them. They were both nondescript, and his stomach urged him onto the bagel shop. He was about to do that when he saw a third truck.

He struggled for a moment. It was nothing, just a coincidence. He hadn't seen many large trucks in the city before, but that didn't mean anything. It wasn't as though Alex was a local, or even someone who frequented the area. It was his first trip there. They could have large trucks rumbling in and out all the time.

Three in a row seemed excessive though. Most trucks woudl have a brand on them. He could almost hear Sean in his mind, telling him to switch it off, to go back and enjoy himself since it was nothing. Not everything was a conspiracy, and South Dakota was not the normal stomping grounds of the Brotherhood. It wasn't even a government powerhouse.

Although he continued to tell himself this, his feet took him in the direction of the trucks. They were moving slowly, so it wasn't hard to keep up. He kept himself under the radar, feeling foolish the entire time. He wondered if he was going to start talking to himself soon, muttering about government satellites and UFOs. He certainly hoped not.

One of the trucks peeled off from the rest. Alex swore under his breath, but his eyes flickered to the two other trucks. They would lead him somewhere, if a somewhere was to be found from this. He still felt embarrassed, but it was too late to turn back now. Lunch and a nap would have to wait.

He watched as the two trucks pulled into a warehouse in a back alley. Alex pressed himself against a wall and watched as a heavily armored soldier stepped out of the truck. He met another one and the two began talking in hushed tones. Alex narrowed his eyes, both irritated and gratified that he'd been right.

The soldier who had met the others waved the trucks in. Alex dived under the nearest one and held onto the bottom of the truck. He was surprised to find that it was fitted with plastic rather than metal, which was never good. There was only one reason that someone would do that. Alex didn't like the Brotherhood, and he hated Magneto, but if someone was trying to protect something from him than it was rarely good for the X-men, or mutantkind for that matter.

The truck started up again. Alex kept himself pressed up to the underbelly of the vehicle, his muscles pulled taught. He was aware of how inappropriately he was dressed for espionage, he had never been a fan of the Bond movies, but it would have to do. Alex was nothing if not flexible.

When the truck stopped he allowed himself to drop down a little. No one was paying much attention to the bottom of the truck. He saw other soldiers pen up the back and begin to hand each other crates. He cocked his head, trying to figure out what was inside. A soldier decided to oblige his unspoken curiosity and took the lid off of one of the crates.

He saw the soldier reach inside and heft a large gun from hand to hand. Alex narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure what it was, but it certainly didn't look legal. He wasn't even sure what type of gun it was, and that said a lot. He could catch a few hurried murmurs amongst the soldiers.

Alex began weighing his options. He wasn't in the best of positions. He was in, but he had no idea how to get out. It had been rather impetuous to get into the building the way he had, but he was known for that. Of course, his backup was several states over. He doubted that they would be able to get there when he needed them.

As he considered what to do next a soldier leaned up against the truck. Alex retracted himself into the inner workings and waited. The smell of gasoline seemed stronger now that the truck had stopped, although he had no idea why that would be. He tilted his head slightly so he could see the soldier's movements.

Another one joined him. Alex could only see their boots, but he couldn't make out any identifying insignia. He lowered himself slightly to see if he could see anything else. As he did the truck lurched forwards, causing him to lose his grip. He rolled out in time to avoid the truck's wheels, but it left him in the middle of the warehouse.

The soldiers stared at him, their guns in their hands. He saw them begin to level them and he sighed.

"Well shit," he said.

He dodged the first blast and sent out a wave of energy. They came out in thick rings, burning and slashing at the men. He tried to focus it, but it was hard to focus that much of it. He ringed the light around his hands and ran in an attempt to get to higher ground. Alex could rain down hell if he had the chance.

There was another barrage of fire. He sent another wave of rings out. One of them clipped the truck, blowing out the wheel. It turned on its side, the edge on fire. He winced; his power wasn't made for subtlety. He focused it around his hands, deciding against doing another complete blast. Alex needed to save his energy for that.

He hurried up the nearest set of stairs, punching anyone who got in his way and throwing them a floor down. Laser shots were being fired, singeing the metal staircase around him. Alex didn't want to think about the kind of power that the guns were packing. As he reached the top of the stairs he realized that they didn't know the kind of power that he was packing either though, so it was almost alright.

Alex reached the catwalk just as the back door to the truck flew open. He saw a soldier go flying out, hitting the ground. A few soldiers turned around and Alex saw a young woman step out, her eyes furious. As they trained their guns on her, her green hair flared out and her eyes glowed.

A second later the metal steps on the other side of the catwalk tore themselves away, pushing soldiers over and pinning them to the ground. One of the soldiers charged her and she twisted his arm before flipping her arms over his neck, her hands tied together by something. When the next soldier charged her she spun the first soldier by his neck, slamming him into the other soldier. Their weight focused on her hands, shattering whatever was holding them there.

For a moment all Alex could do was stare. He had no idea what Magnetrix was doing there. She'd been captured by these people? He shook it off and focused his energy in his hands. It didn't matter for the moment, although he had no doubt that it would later.


	10. Chapter 10

February 19, 1974

"Come on guys!" Scott yelled, "We're almost there!"

Sean nodded to himself as the group ran past, rubbing his chin. His friend's brother was everything he had been pupported to be. Scott was impressive in combat. He hadn't had much of a chance to see how he fought when they were rescuing Carly from the Friends of Humanity, but he could see that Scott was shaping up well.

More than that, he was trying to get the group to work together as a team. Sean knew, from the individual evaluation times, that Scott could run much faster than he was currently doing. Instead he chose to stay back and run at the level that the rest of them were so he could help out. It was the move of someone who was fighting to keep things together, working their hardest even when it wasn't necessary.

Sean couldn't say the same for the rest of them. It was understandable. He hadn't expected everyone to take Scott's attitude towards the team and their jobs: he was unique in that. Alex, while he'd had a few bumps in the road of his teenage years, had managed to impart Scott with a strong sense of duty and responsibility. Not everyone saw things the same way.

Alex was proud of his team, but Sean could see some cracks in it. He knew that Alex had seen it too. He'd made some rather uncertain notes about Jean. She was clever and capable of giving medical attention, but she had a slightly hysterical edge to her. There were a few other notes there too, although Sean didn't understand them. Alex's handwriting was difficult to understand at best, but he had underlined 'talk to Charles.'

The records were old, so Sean figured that it had been settled. The others had different notes. Ororo was considered a little volatile, and Sean could see her teeth grind when she was given an order she didn't like. Clarice was more complacent, but her blank exterior was a little worrying. She was too collected at times, almost as though she were blanking. Warren seemed almost indignant during the training.

As they rounded the corner Sean made a mark on his clipboard. He looked further down the lawn where Moira had brought David out. She saw him looking and waved before she stopped David from sticking a rock into his mouth. He let his mother take it from him with barely a whimper of protest before going back to exploring. A soft smile blossomed on Moira's face as she crouched down with him.

Sean looked at his watch. He knew that Charles would be down as soon as his class allowed. Moira's schedule wasn't as packed as Charles, so she ended up with David more than Charles. It was probably for the best. David was constantly trying to climb things and put things in his mouth. He was three, almost four, so he hadn't grown out of it yet. Whoever was watching him had to be fast on their feet and nimble as well. Charles, unfortunately, wasn't either of those things.

Even as he watched David took several tottering steps forward, breaking into a sudden run. Moira got up quickly. She looked over at Sean and threw her hands up before hurrying after her son. Sean stifled a laugh as he watched. David was still very young, but he was fast. Still, Moira could catch him without his help.

He shook his head and leaned against the outside of the school. In about an hour the rest of the classes would let out for lunch. He knew that the lawn was a popular place during that time, even during the winter. The gray clouds proclaimed that a snowfall was approaching, and he knew that it would mean that training would have to be moved indoors.

Alex had rarely moved it indoors though, so Sean was uncertain about what he was going to do. He could continue to train them as Alex had done, in ways that he knew was rather extreme. He didn't want to ruin Alex's training regime, but at the same time he wasn't Alex. He couldn't see the point in working them quite so hard. Everyone deserved a break every now and then, and it was time the young team got one.

The team rounded the corner, Scott still in the front and looking back at the rest. Sean thought he saw a dark look pass over Warren's face as Scott urged the rest to continue. He made a little note: he'd have to talk to Alex about that when he got back. The new X-men were still little more than strangers to Sean.

It was his own fault. He should have been there to watch them through their early days. Guiltily he knew that he had left Alex to train the next generation by himself. Hank had always planned on leaving, and Sean and Alex had planned to stay and help train their replacements. When Sean had turned eighteen he'd switched off that dream. A few years later he had left Westchester all together.

Maybe it was his fault that Alex was so sunk into the X-men. He hadn't received the help from Sean that he had always planned on, and he had probably taken the burden onto himself, planning on doing a perfect job. Alex always tried to shoulder the brunt of any burden, and training the X-men was no exception.

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the team. They had almost reached him. He watched as Clarice turned her head to the side, shaking her pink hair out of her eyes. She looked to the side and stopped running, causing Ororo to bump into her. Ororo made a face and opened her mouth angrily as if to say something, but stopped when she saw what Clarice was looking at. Frowning Sean followed their line of sight.

Moira hadn't quite reached David, but he had stopped, his curious blue eyes looking up at what his young mind could only be processing as an oddity. Emma Frost looked down at him with something like amusement, her arms crossed and her head cocked. A smile was playing on her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

The clipboard fell out of his hands. Instead of freezing though, Sean began running. Interpol had kept him in good shape and he watched as Moira reached David and pulled him away from Emma. She picked him up as if to shield him and gave Emma a defiant glare. Emma raised her eyebrows, the amusement finally reaching her eyes.

"What the are you doing here?" he heard Moira demand.

She cocked her head further.

"You're incredibly rude," she said, "And rather brash for someone in your position."

Although Sean's lungs burned he sucked in a deep breath. If he was going to have to direct a scream at Emma than he would be ready.

"You didn't answer my question," Moira said.

He had to admire the fact that Moira continued to stand her ground. Running wouldn't do any good, but he couldn't even see a tremble of the fear he knew she was feeling. He was almost there and he slowed down, shoving his fists into his coat pockets.

"So brash," Emma said.

"You really should answer her question," Sean snapped.

Emma looked over at him, startled. Her lips pursed as he walked in front of Moira. The two shared glances before he directed his attention back to Emma.

"As quickly as possible," Sean said.

"I may provide a better answer."

Sean looked past Emma and saw Erik walk behind her, followed closely by Mystique, Riptide, and Angel. His muscles tensed. For as long as Sean could remember there had been an understanding between Charles and Erik: Westchester was to be left alone. Any arguments, any fights, stayed away from the school. Children were educated there, and Erik wasn't so far gone yet to think that children as young as David should have to be endangered by their struggle.

His eyes narrowed. If Erik thought that he was going to be able to break that understanding than he was wrong. He let his fingers flex and began the breathing exercises that Charles had taught him so long ago. The footfalls of the X-men filled his ears as they surrounded Moira in a semi-circle, their eyes fixed on the Brotherhood.

Erik waved his hand.

"There's no need for that," he said, "I simply need to speak to Charles."

"What about?" Moira said.

Her voice was sharp and angry. Sean couldn't detect any fear in it, but he could see that she was still holding David protectively. If the Brotherhood did attack them than she would be at a distinct advantage. Even so she still held her head up as though she was a woman talking to a neighbor who had just dumped their trash in her yard.

"Just to talk," he said.

"But you came here in full force," Moira said.

"We're on our way somewhere," Erik said.

Her face stayed incredulous. Erik's face twisted with impatience before his eyes narrowed. Sean didn't like where this was going. He wasn't sure if Erik really wanted to talk to Charles or just start trouble, and he didn't want to find out. Sean was about to speak when a voice cut through his mind.

_Moira, please bring David inside. Sean, keep things under control. I'm almost down. _

Sean sighed and folded his arms in front of his chest. Moira gritted her teeth, but she hefted David in her arms. He knew that she would have preferred staying there to help control the situation, but David had changed things. She gave Erik a dirty look before she tuned on her heel and headed indoors. Erik frowned but Sean tapped his head.

"Charles'll be down here in a minute," he said.

Erik nodded. Sean continued to give him an even look. His expression turned calculating.

"I imagine you're the acting head of the X-men if Alex isn't out here," he said.

Sean didn't want to admit that Alex was there, not when the rest of the Brotherhood surrounded them, but he knew how to keep them on their toes.

"Havok is conducting business," he said.

It was, more or less, true. Erik's eyes narrowed further. He might call them by the names that they had known each other by when they were children blinded by a dream, but Sean knew better. Alex had been the first one to refer to the rest of the team by their codenames around Erik. Sean and Hank had adopted the practice as well, but none as vehemently as Alex. They had all done it though. Unlike Charles they couldn't pretend that nothing had changed.

Out of the corner of his eye he looked at the rest of the team. They were all sweaty from the run, but they were combat ready. If bad came to worse they would have to see if they could hold off the Brotherhood until Charles got down there. He wouldn't be able to do anything about Erik, but if they took Emma out first than he could handle the rest of them. They stood a chance of taking Magneto down if they all attacked him at once.

His thoughts were interrupted as Charles wheeled his way out of the school, following the winding path to where they were. He looked like he was struggling to keep his face calm. The team parted for him and he arrived next to Sean before stopping. His hands rested by his side and he took a long, sharp breath in.

"Erik, you shouldn't have done this," Charles said.

Erik raised his eyebrows, but Sean could see the continued impatience on his face.

"I wasn't expecting quite this level of hostility from you of all people," he said.

"My son was playing out here," Charles said.

He looked up, his expression tired but tinged with protective anger.

"You said he would be left out of all this," Charles said.

Sean couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. When had that conversation happened?

"I'm not attacking you," Erik said.

"I can see that," Charles said, "But if my team were any less trained…"

He shook his head.

"And what were they supposed to think when you bring just about all of the Brotherhood here?" he said, "I'm not against talking, but you must understand that this looks bad. Why didn't you just send Magnetrix with a message if you needed to talk?"

Erik's face hardened. Sean didn't understand the reaction: Magnetrix had always been his messenger of choice. She'd been delivering messages for years.

"Not an option," Erik said, his voice curt, "Charles, I need you to use Cerebro."

There was a long silence before Charles shook his head.

"Erik, you know I can't do that," he said, "I told you that years ago."

"I know, but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency," Erik said.

"I can't. Not for your purposes," Charles said, "Unless there's something you're not telling me."

"You're going to have to trust me," Erik said.

Charles gripped the side of his wheelchair.

"If it were just me at stake, then I would," Charles said, "But we both know that things aren't quite the way that they were."

His expression turned sad as his eyes turned from his old friend to the sister who would no longer speak to him.

"I need to know the 'why' now," Charles said.

There was another silence. Charles sighed.

"If you can't tell me, then we're done here," he said.

He began to back up. Sean turned to help him, the rest of the X-men still staring down the Brotherhood. He had begun to wheel Charles away when Erik called out;

"Black Tom betrayed us. He killed Azazel and took my daughter."

Sean stopped, his blood freezing and burning at the same time. Charles looked over his shoulder. Sean didn't turn. There was too much his mind was trying to process.

"I need to find her before something happens," Erik said, "His trail ran cold. Cerebro is the fastest way we have. If something happened to David, then I would help you."

Sean could barely hear him over the angry thumping of his own heart.

"All you had to do was tell me that Erik," Charles said.

He looked up at Sean.

"Take me to Cerebro," he said.

Sean nodded, his throat feeling as though it were filled with sand.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

February 19, 1974

Sean shifted from one foot to the other. His thoughts were clouded with thoughts of the cousin that he had once trusted. He'd been the only person that he'd been able to turn to when they'd had to go and resolve the situation in South America. They'd needed Moira for her knowledge of codes and government protocols, and the school had been closed at the time.

Maeve's family had disowned her, and the X-men had needed Sean. Tom had offered to look after Maeve. Sean had hesitated. At one point both of them had chased after Maeve, her luminous hazel eyes and shining gold hair the only thing that Tom had seen. Sean had seen someone who embraced the joy of the world and danced ahead, and in return she had seen him.

That had happened two years prior when Tom had been travelling through the states. Sean hadn't been sure, but he hadn't had any choice. Tom had made his peace with both Sean and Maeve by that point, and Sean knew Tom well enough to know that he wouldn't try to hurt her. He was still Sean's cousin, a cousin he had grown up knowing, so Sean had trusted him.

He did feel a little bad about his leg. He'd been angry about being kept in the dark, but her actual death hadn't been Tom's fault. His own guilt and confusion had kept him from even remembering that he'd done that for months. Either way, the next time he'd seen him it had been as a member of the Brotherhood. Now he had betrayed them too. It appeared that he was the kind of man who held no loyalty.

The thought made him sad and his heart hurt. Sean wondered why all of this was happening now when all he wanted to do was put himself back together. It seemed as though many things were conspiring against him, trying to make it impossible for him to make sense of his life again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked ahead. Erik stood next to him, staring straight ahead. The hallway outside of Cerebro was crowded with the rest of the members of the Brotherhood and the X-men. Moira was still in the upper levels, probably trying to keep the rest of the students from noticing anything was wrong.

In many ways he understood why she wasn't there, although he knew that she wouldn't be happy about it. Someone had needed to remove David from the situation, and it couldn't have been Charles. He supposed that, at some point in their relationship, Charles and Moira had discussed what to do if the Brotherhood ever came to the Institute.

The two of them were a partnership, although Sean wondered if, after ten years, there were a few signs of strain. Neither of them had ever shown any signs of it, but after what Alex had said Sean began dissecting the times he'd seen Moira and Charles together since his arrival, with or without David. He ran out of occasions before he ran out of fingers.

With those unsettling thoughts in his mind the doors to Cerebro opened. Sean saw the rest of the X-men tense while the Brotherhood looked to Erik. Charles wheeled out, his expression troubled. Erik's expression eroded slightly for the first time since Charles had gone inside.

"Where is she?" Erik said.

Charles folded his hands in his laps.

"That's a rather complicated question Erik," he said.

"Why?" Erik demanded.

Charles looked at the rest of the X-men and the Brotherhood.

"I see a little bit of what the person in question is doing when I find them. I'm going to have to show you all what I saw of Magnetrix," he said.

"There's no need to show your pets," Erik snapped, removing his helmet, "It doesn't concern them."

Sean raised his eyebrows and there were a few murmurings from the X-men. Erik's panic was palpable, but he wasn't making any friends. His own feelings towards fathers and daughters were the only things that were keeping him from snapping out that Erik should be a little more grateful. He was lucky Alex was in South Dakota: nothing would have stopped him.

"Unfortunately, that's not true," Charles said.

Before Erik could as why Charles put his hand to his temples.

* * *

Lorna smashed the flat of her palm into the closest soldier. She was angry, her fists lashing out. She hadn't seen Black Tom anywhere, and if he had been there then he would have already had time to escape. She didn't know just what he had thought kidnapping her would accomplish, but he was about to find out how wrong he was. Not seeing him there had smothered her indignation and sadness with a layer of anger, anger that she couldn't show him that.

She couldn't find her coat or Kevlar vest either. They had taken it from her when they locked her away, and the knives that Azazel had given her were in it. The thought of that having been destroyed added an edge of something like panic into her movements. She barely looked where she was hitting or pulling metal from.

Someone grabbed her arm and she flung her head back before kicking another soldier in the chest. She turned around and knocked the stunned first soldier down. A group of three soldiers leveled their guns, and they were too far for her to do anything about. She got ready to roll to avoid them, but a series of red rings smashed into the floor around them, sending chunks of concrete into the air.

Lorna looked in the direction that the rings had come from. She recognized Havok on the catwalk, his eyes staring at her in calculation. She swore. When had the X-men gotten there? It would certainly explain the way that the truck had overturned. While Lorna was grateful for the escape opportunity it had provided, she didn't feel like dealing with the X-men. This was Brotherhood business.

However, taking a closer look at him she saw that he wasn't in his uniform. He was in some sort of business suit, ill-equipped for fighting. She couldn't make out any of the other X-men either. Lorna frowned briefly before soldiers flooded the catwalk. She reached her hand out and twisted the metal, blocking them from Havok.

He glanced at her and she turned back to her fight. He'd done her a good turn, and she wasn't about to let him go down for doing that. She looked back at the truck, her eyes focusing on it. She'd been so bent on escape that she hadn't taken to the time to search it. Lorna pursed her lips and felt for metal.

To her relief she felt the familiar metal of Azazel's knives and the bits of metal that had been sewn into her coat. She pulled them forward as she punched another guard. Lorna rolled behind some debris for a shield. A minute later her coat and vest were in her hands. She slipped her arms into the vest and wrapped the coat around her. She was clothed in her father's colors again, her mentor's weapons were by her side. Some of her anger was soothed, but it resurged when she remembered why she needed them.

A door opened and more soldiers poured in. Lorna snarled. How had Black Tom gotten so many people to work for him? He couldn't possibly have the necessary resources. Then again, Lorna still had no clue as to why he had betrayed them. He must have known that their retribution would be swift and terrible.

Lorna decided not to think about it. There wasn't time for that sort of thing. An explosion on the catwalk made her look up. Havok had flung himself down the stairs, sending rings of light up at the people above him. He rolled and landed next to her. She glanced at him for a minute, her eyes narrowing.

More soldiers were pouring in. Lorna looked around, unsure of what to do. She'd never been in a situation like the one she was currently in. Her only ally was the field commander of a team she had been taught to distrust and fight. He was giving her a strange look too, and she wondered if similar thoughts were going through his mind.

"You feel like living?" he asked.

Lorna sighed and nodded.

"Alright then," he said, "We'll get out of here together, and then we'll work on what the hell the other is doing here."

She nodded and turned her back to his. She could feel his presence behind her.

"Can you cut off the ones coming from the catwalk?" he asked.

Lorna looked at the metal structure.

"Piece of cake," she said.

She looked at the ones that were coming from the east entrance.

"Can you get the ones on the left Scholastic?"

He made a face but nodded.

"Alright then," she said.

She threw her arms out at the same time he did. She heard the explosions but kept her eyes fixed on the catwalk. Her fingertips turned and the metal twisted in time with her, trapping the soldiers. To stop them from firing she made the catwalk twirl in on itself, keeping them in a perfect metal cage.

Once she was finished Lorna could feel a weariness in her bones. When she'd been freed she'd thought nothing of using her powers in grand movements to fight back against her attackers. It had been sloppy and beneath her lessons. As a result she'd overextended herself, and she was going to end up paying the price for it soon.

Lorna wasn't ready to show that in front of Havok though. Trying to look alert she turned to examine his handiwork. The eastern entrance was a heap of smoking rubble and piled bodies. She saw where his rings of energy had slashed deep into the stone of the wall. Lorna clicked her tongue thoughtfully and looked at Havok.

"Not bad Scholastic," Lorna said.

He glanced over at her, sweat beading around his forehead and pooling at his neck. She was suddenly aware of how much taller he was than her, the way he could look down at her. Lorna angled her head to make sure that she wasn't looking up at him. He snorted and pulled the tie from around his neck before stuffing it into a pocket and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt to make breathing easier.

"I have a name you know," he said.

"I'm not going to go around yelling Havok," Lorna said, "I'd look like an idiot."

He raised his eyebrows.

"And you don't calling out Scholastic?" he said.

"Suits you better," Lorna said.

His eyebrows went to their normal level before his eyes narrowed.

"Fine Trixie," he said.

Lorna bristled. She wanted to snap something at him, but more soldiers began pouring in. She shook her head.

"Where the hell did Black Tom get these assholes from?" she said.

Havok frowned, and she felt like slapping herself. He hadn't known until she'd told him.

"We'll talk about that later," he said.

"We won't," Lorna said, "But I don't think that right now is the time to be arguing this."

"Me neither," Havok said, "We need to get out of here, and we need to get out of her fast."

Lorna saw the soldiers approaching. She reached out towards the overturned truck, pulling it towards them. Her limbs trembled and her muscles screamed. A pulsing migraine began to burn in her head and her vision blurred. Lorna continued to press on, the point between rage and serenity more difficult to reach than ever.

Finally the truck moved, blocking the path of the soldiers. It wouldn't last forever, but it had bought them sometime. Lorna felt faint, but she couldn't let Havok see that. She could hear the soldiers pounding at the truck, trying to break it apart and get to them. The soldiers she had imprisoned on the catwalk were doing their best to get out as well.

She saw that Havok was looking around the area. His eyes lit on an extra truck. He pointed towards it and took off running. She hurried to catch up, her body angry and screaming at the demands that she was making on it. Lorna had been through worse though, and she told herself that nothing could have ever been as bad as that first night that she had run. Her body shortened its cries and she swallowed more air.

Havok blasted open the driver's side. Lorna managed to manipulate the metal in the lock of the door before collapsing on the seat. Havok glanced at her, but didn't say anything before he drove the truck out of the loading bay at top speed. She managed to buckle up before he drove into the loading bay's door, shattering it.

Lorna was jostled forward, but she didn't say anything as they roared out into the street. He carried on at that speed for a few blocks before he slowed down, finally pulling into a parking lot behind a factory. Lorna knew he was trying to make them hard to track. She slid out of the door as he got out of his side.

"Come on," he said, "We need to get out of here."

She frowned at him

"We?" she asked.

Havok snorted.

"Look," he said, "We said we were getting out of there alive, together. And since those guys are probably coming after us, I wouldn't say that we're in the clear just yet."

She glared at him and he snorted.

"I won't call the police if that's what you're worried about Trixie," he said, "I stand by my agreements. That's all."

Lorna continued glaring at him, but she nodded in agreement. Havok was an asshole, but he had a point. Her father had taught her that she couldn't chose who she worked with. At least she knew that the worst Havok would do was put her in jai, where she could escape. He jerked his head down an alley and she followed him, continuing to hide her exhaustion.

* * *

Sean blinked, his eyes wide. He looked at the rest of the X-men, feeling his mind pulse with the new knowledge. The team looked shocked, as did the Brotherhood. Erik stared at Charles, a mixture of relief, suspicion, and something that looked almost like fear on his face. Charles nodded.

"As you can see," Charles said, "It's our business too."


	12. Chapter 12

February 19, 1974

Alex looked behind him. Magnetrix was still him. Between getting out of the truck and arriving at his hotel she'd thrown her hood over her face. All of her green hair had been stuffed into the hood, perhaps in a bid not to attract too much attention. He punched in a button for the elevator, rolling his shoulders and trying to work out the cricks in his neck.

As he waited he wondered just how these things happened to him. He had gone to attend a conference, and instead he found himself sucked back into a world that continually urged him to take a vacation. Perhaps it was fate of some kind, some sort of sign that their cause still needed him in a prominent role no matter what Sean tried to insist. There was nothing fun about what had just happened, but it had been familiar to him, more so than going in and listening to lectures.

He glanced at Magnetrix. Her lips were set in a firm line and she stood rigid, her eyes scanning the room for threats. She wasn't looking at him though. He didn't blame her. They weren't exactly in a position that could, in any terms at all, be thought of as normal. He wanted to tell her that he could sympathize, but that would mean talking to her.

There were things that he was curious about, wanted to ask, but those were only the most necessary subjects. Besides, he couldn't talk about them in public. His hotel room was the most secure place that he could think of at the moment, and Magnetrix had agreed when she'd heard. She hadn't been happy about remaining with him, but he hadn't been either.

A few unnecessary questions rattled around in his head too. He knew that the woman standing next to him was Erik's daughter. Her age was something that he couldn't help but be curious about. He estimated that she was about four years younger than him. Erik had been around thirty when he'd first met him, meaning that he'd fathered Lorna in his teens.

It was an unnecessary deduction on the part of the X-men, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. He had discussed it once with Hank before he'd gone away to a university in New York. She had been roughly eighteen when they'd first seen her with the Brotherhood wearing her father's colors, using his powers, and sporting a similar name.

It had led to speculation on just how long she had been with the Brotherhood. Eighteen wasn't particularly young in their line of work, but it wasn't old either. Alex wondered if they'd just got her, but Hank had cited her confidence in both her powers and her combat style as evidence against that theory. She'd been with the Brotherhood for a while.

Alex often wondered who her mother was. He highly doubted that she'd been a mutant. Charles had once said that he'd been one of the first mutants that Erik had met. It had been back when they were all training together, ready to take on Shaw. At the time Alex hadn't thought much about it, but when it came to Magnetrix it did have a few connotations.

It meant that her mother would have been human, and he couldn't imagine her being receptive to Erik's crusade against humans. It also meant that Magnetrix would have had to have hated her enough to join her father instead of trying to protect her mother's species. Perhaps she'd seen her father's appearance as a way to run away from home.

He shook his head. It was unimportant. They walked into the elevator together and he pointed to his room. Magentrix tapped the door and it swung open.

"I have the key you know," he said.

She didn't say anything as she stepped inside. He shut the door and locked it.

"So," he said, "Black Tom?"

Magnetrix pulled her hood back and fluffed out her green hair.

"Brotherhood business," she said tartly.

He rolled his yes.

"Look, I don't know what the Brotherhood teaches you about these situations," Alex said, "But right now we need to start communicating."

She crossed her arms.

"Alright," she said, "Do you have a way to contact the Professor?"

He threw his hands up. There was no working with her sort.

"Yes, I do," Alex said.

"Then use it," Magnetrix said, "I imagine that Emma might have contacted him by now."

Alex picked the phone off the nightstand and began dialing. Magnetrix stood some distance from him, being careful to look anywhere but where he was. He cradled the phone to his neck and glared at the opposite wall. Alex had always figured that any member of the Brotherhood would be difficult to talk to, and it had never bothered him since he'd never had any desire to talk to any of them.

He'd always had the sneaking suspicion that he might have to one day though. There had been occasions where they had found themselves fighting the same enemies. He still remembered when they had fought the Friends of Humanity together. Erik's smirk had been insufferable and Alex had longed to wipe it off his face. He couldn't count that as conversation though: working together when people were trying to kill you didn't count.

The phone rang out. He checked the time and calculated the time difference. Charles didn't have a class for another hour. He frowned and dialed Moira's number.

"Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Dean of student relations Moira Xavier."

Moira sounded exhausted.

"Hey, it's me," Alex said.

He heard the phone shift.

"Alex?" she asked, "Is everything alright?"

Alex frowned. He could tell from her tone that she wasn't asking out of idle curiosity.

"Why would you think something's wrong?" he asked.

"Because Charles just told us that you got into a fight alongside Magnetrix against some rather nasty characters," she said, "He saw it through Cerebro, and then he showed all of us. Sean's organizing the X-men to go down to South Dakota right now."

He glanced over at Magnetrix.

"Bad news travels fast," he said, "But don't worry. We're out of immediate danger. There are a few things I want to investigate but…"

Her words continued to clatter in his head.

"Wait a minute," Alex said, "Why was Charles trying to find me?"

"Not Charles, Magneto," Moira said, "He showed up at the Institute along with several members of the Brotherhood. I know you know that Magnetrix was kidnapped by Black Tom. Right after he killed Azazel."

His eyes widened. He remembered the red mutant from the very beginning. The idea of someone like him dying, especially at the hands of someone like Black Tom, was shocking. Perhaps there was more to Black Tom than they'd thought.

"No kidding," Alex said, "You can tell him she's still with me."

"One moment," Moira said.

He heard her put down the phone and run down the hall. He looked over at Magnetrix as footsteps pounded down the hall.

"Hey," Alex said, "it sounds like your daddy wants to talk to you."

Magnetrix whirled around, her hand reaching out. The phone flew into her hand and she placed it below her neck. Alex snorted and leaned back on his bed, his hands folded on his chest. He still wanted answers about what had happened, but it appeared that he wasn't going to get them. Not any time soon anyway, and not from Magnetrix.

He could only rely on the X-men to tell the truth.

* * *

Lorna clutched the phone close to her face.

"Lorna? Are you alright?"

She took a deep breath. It was good to hear her father's voice. He was speaking in Polish though. Her father had always made sure that she knew several languages, so understanding him wasn't a problem. However, she knew there was a reason for his language switch. He obviously wasn't alone in the room. Lorna wondered if it was the Professor's wife or the Professor himself that he didn't want to share their conversation with.

It touched her that he'd been desperate enough to go to Westchester for Cerebro, but at the same time she knew he needed to be careful. The X-men's insistence on 'doing the right thing' would do more harm than good. It was all well-intentioned, but naïve nonetheless.

"I'm fine father," she answered in the same language.

She could hear his sigh of relief.

"I feared the worst when we found Azazel."

Her throat constricted.

"So he is dead," Lorna said.

She gritted her teeth. She had known that it would have been impossible for him to survive, but hearing it from her father made her heart sink. He'd been with her for so long, always seemed so invincible.

Lorna tucked away her grief. She needed her anger to get her through the oncoming fight.

"Permission to find Black Tom and destroy him," Lorna said.

Her father sighed.

"Lorna, I understand that you're upset and angry," he said, "We all are. But you need to wait."

She furrowed her brow.

"Father, I can't afford to let the trail go cold," she said, "Right now I have a tenuous lead at best. That's going to go away if I sit around here waiting for everyone. It might have already gone away, but I knew we needed to talk."

"And we do need to talk," he said, "I was worried. But Lorna, it appears that we've underestimated Black Tom. Emma went through our records, and it appears that he's been embezzling funds."

Lorna gritted her teeth.

"So it was over money," she said.

Azazel had died over something as trivial as money. She gripped the wall, her fingers scratching the paint. Lorna felt Havok's eyes on her back, but for once she didn't care.

"I ask again," she said, "permission to find and destroy him."

"Once we get there," her father said.

"It's wasting time," Lorna said.

She tried to keep her voice level. She wasn't about to let Havok know that she was having an argument with her father. Part of her couldn't even believe it.

"Father, he killed Azazel," Lorna said.

"As I said, I am aware," her father said, "And he will be punished for hurting one of our own. But he will be punished by all of us."

She shook her head.

"If I head him off and call in his position then it would work better," she said.

"Lorna, no."

Lorna couldn't believe what she was doing, but her anger over what happened was coming to the forefront of her mind, reinforced by something else.

"Father, he has Terry too," Lorna said.

Her father sighed.

"Listen, Lorna," he said, "I know that you're fond of Terry. But I don't think she's in any immediate danger."

"I wouldn't put anything past that scum anymore," Lorna said.

"She can wait Lorna," her father said, "From what Charles showed me it seems like Black Tom has quite the criminal network. You need back up."

Her father was making sense, but her rage over Azazel's death bubbled to the surface. The thought of Terry at that man's mercy only made things worse. It was all tied in with the humiliation of being captured, held against her will for God only knew what. Now she was being held back, which only added to that humiliation.

Azazel and her father had taught her that humiliation should be paid back in tenfold. She had been an avid student.

"Father, I can do this," she said.

"Lorna, wait."

"Father," Lorna said, her voice raising.

She glanced back at Havok, who was staring at the ceiling and looking bored. He couldn't know that she was having an argument.

"I know what I'm doing," she said, "And I can do this. I'm going after him, and I'll tell you what I find. I'll get a radio and tune in on the correct channel. Goodbye father."

She hung up before he could reply. For a minute she took a deep breath, feeling shaky. What had she just done? Lorna knew her father had been right. However, something about the way he had calmly dismissed her offers to help had sparked something within her. If she had been any other member than she would have received permission. She had as much right as them, if not more in this case. She'd seen Azazel's injuries, been taken against her will. Terry was depending on her now, and someone had to destroy Black Tom.

"So, you're off then?" Havok said.

His voice was dismissive. Lorna looked at him, the gears in her head turning. Part of her told her to leave. The calmer part pointed out that her father had been right: taking on Black Tom by herself would be a bad idea. He had too many foot soldiers. Another part of her, one that she hated and wished would shut up, observed that she had worked very well with Havok.

More than that, he had kept his word. She might not be able to trust him fully, but she had the feeling that she could work with him. That was worth something. The X-men were naïve, but Havok was a talented soldier. In the past her father had, in grudging terms, admired the way that he organized his men and staged his raids.

"You said you wanted to know what happened," she said.

He sat up, giving her a calculating look. Lorna had the feeling that he was sizing her up much in the way that she had only seconds before.

"Yes," he said, "I do."

"And if I told you that Black Tom was behind this, that it looks like he's planning something big, you'd want to stop him, wouldn't you?" Lorna said.

"Of course," Havok said.

She resisted the urge to swallow.

"And if that meant working with me," Lorna said, "what would you say to that?"

He gave her a long, calculating glance.

"I'd say that we can't choose the people we work with," he said.

Lorna nodded.

"Then it's settled," she said.

Havok inclined his head. She could only hope that she had made the right decision.


	13. Chapter 13

February 20, 1974

Sean watched as Erik pulled the phone away, his expression aghast. He looked over at Sean, who stood next to Charles. Moira had gone to try and make sure that none of the X-men tried to settle any scores with the Brotherhood. Sean didn't envy her job and felt bad about leaving her alone. However, Charles needed him there. Emma was just outside of the door, and he didn't relish the thought of Charles being outnumbered.

"Why did you hang up?" Sean asked, "We need to talk to Alex."

"There was no reason to continue the conversation," Erik said.

He sounded tense, almost worried.

"Is everything alright?" Charles asked.

"Fine," Erik said, his voice curt.

"For some reason I don't believe you," Sean said.

Erik glared at him. When he was fifteen Sean wouldn't have dared to contradict Erik. It felt good to remind him that those days were over.

"If it isn't, then it doesn't concern you," Erik said.

"Sorry, but now you're just being difficult," Sean said.

He could feel confidence returning to him, reminding him of a time where he wore a yellow and blue jumpsuit and saved the world. It was a feeling that had faded when he left and went into Interpol, but now it was at his fingertips. He wondered if Alex felt that satisfaction all the time.

If he did, he could imagine why he never wanted to leave Westchester.

"We both know Havok is with Magnetrix," Sean said, "If something's wrong with her, then something is likely wrong with him, and we deserve to know."

"I have a very strong feeling that she will not be staying there," Erik said, "So no, it doesn't."

Sean rolled his eyes.

"Sean," Charles said, his voice soft.

"One second," Sean said, walking up to the phone, "I want to check something."

He picked up the phone and dialed Alex's room number. He waited until someone picked up.

"Alex, this is you right?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's me," Alex said.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," Sean said, "but is Magnetrix still with you by any chance?"

"Yeah," Alex said.

"Fancy that," Sean said, raising his voice so Erik could hear.

Erik glared at him.

"So, what's happening over there?" Sean said, "We heard that Black Tom attacked you guys. What's up with that?"

The name felt like someone was scraping their fingernails against the chalkboard of his mind. He forced it out anyway.

"It turns out that I can't keep my big nose out of things," Alex said, "That's what. It looks like he's building some sort of army."

The thought drew him up short.

"Huh," he said.

"I know, right?" Alex said.

He heard him sigh.

"Anyway, it appears that I might be doing a tag team with a Brotherhood member," he said.

His voice was bitter, reluctant.

"What?" Sean asked.

"Well, my preferred team members aren't exactly close by," Alex said, "I'm just going to have to roll with it. I don't think she'll try to stab me in the back."

Sean heard something like a snort, but it didn't come from Alex.

"You're saying this stuff while she's in the room with you?" Sean said.

Erik looked furious and Charles looked like he had a headache, but he ignored them.

"Yeah. It's not like she isn't thinking the same thing about me," Alex said, "I need to get going. Look, these guys are heavily armed. When you guys come down, because I know you will-"

There was a muted argument on the other line.

"Cut the bullshit Trixie," Alex snapped, "I know the Brotherhood are probably coming down here. For once this shit concerns both of our teams, so I'd like to have my team with me when shit goes down. And I know you feel the same, so cut it. Got it?"

Sean raised his eyebrows. Trixie?

"God," Alex mumbled.

The phone shifted.

"Anyway," Alex said, "I'll keep you guys posted, but right now I need to focus on stopping this guy. I'm glad I packed my spare uniform. With any luck I'll have him by the time you get here."

Although Sean knew how his friend meant it, he could hear his unspoken vow that Sean wouldn't have to deal with his cousin. Sean highly doubted that it would be that easy. He hesitated, a strange, sinking feeling starting in his gut. He knew that Alex was stronger than Black Tom, but things were different.

"Don't do anything stupid Alex," Sean said, "He killed Azazel."

There was a pause.

"Yeah, Moira told me," Alex said, "I'll just have to outsmart him. Shouldn't be difficult. See you soon Sean."

He hung up, his cocky tone ringing in Sean's ears. Sean put the phone down and looked at Charles and Erik, both of whom were looking at him. He gave a helpless shrug.

"Well," he said, "it looks like what happens to Magnetrix is our business now."

"What happens to my daughter is no concern of yours!" Erik snapped.

"Erik," Charles said, his voice tired.

"No," Erik said, "This morning a madman decided to take my daughter and, in the process, killed one of my best soldiers. This is a Brotherhood matter Charles."

"And an X-man one too since it appears that Magnetrix decided to pair up with Havok to take down Black Tom," Sean said, irritated.

Erik stared at him.

"She wouldn't," he said.

"Apparently she would," Sean said, "I'd say my cousin's managed to piss her off pretty bad, and Havok understands that you can't always work with who you'd prefer."

He looked over at Charles. His old mentor looked exhausted and frustrated. Sean knew this was difficult for all of them. How could it not be? Any time the Brotherhood showed up it never meant anything good. He shook his head and crossed his arms just as Charles's eyes lifted to his.

_You're the acting field leader of the X-men Sean. _

Sean blinked, a wave of uncertainty seeping into him. He had a terrible feeling that he knew where Charles was going.

_It appears that we're going to have to deploy the X-men to South Dakota, _Charles thought, _Unfortunately it looks as though the Brotherhood will be going as well. _

Inwardly he sighed. He knew what that meant. He thought of the five teenagers that Alex had been training, how much they would hate the Brotherhood by that point. He supposed they hated them just as much as he had hated them when he had been young, before self-loathing had pushed his hate for anything else out.

_I believe they are ready. _

Sean wasn't so sure. He swallowed.

_What do you think?_

Sean hesitated, trying to figure out what to say. He had willingly taken the burden of leading the X-men while Alex went to South Dakota. Sean hadn't imagined that anything would happen in the week that Alex was due to be gone. However, it appeared that fate had other ideas as well as a cruel sense of humor.

He had never, under any circumstances, led the X-men. Hank had done so once or twice, but it was apparent that Sean lacked the confidence even before he'd lost his wife and daughter. Now he felt, for the first time in years, as though he were a teenager again, hoping that someone else would give an order he could follow.

Still, he'd said that he would take care of things while Alex was gone. He had sworn that there would be no more running away, no more hiding. It was going to be harder than he'd thought to fulfill that promise, but if he wanted to be the person that he had vowed to be, he would have to stand his ground.

_I'm not sure if they're ready. I don't know them that well, _Sean admitted, _But we don't have a choice, and I refuse to let Alex go without backup. _

Charles nodded. Erik glanced between the two of them.

"Now that you're done with your little conference, mind filling me in?" he asked, his voice irritated.

Sean gave him what he hoped was an even look.

"As much as it pains me to say it," Sean said, "it looks like we'll have to take a page out of Havok and Magnetrix's book. We'll have to work together on this one."

Erik gave him an angry look that was marbled with suspicion.

"Erik, please be reasonable," Charles said, "We cannot have fighting between our teams at this time. We need to work together if Black Tom is to be stopped. You know this is true. We both have operatives out there that are risking their lives even as we speak."

Charles's words seemed to have the desired effect. Erik's look softened slightly, although Sean still didn't like it.

"Fine," Erik snapped, "But I choose to bring all of my team."

"As do I," Sean said.

He looked over at Charles before glancing back at Erik.

"Let's just hope there's enough seats in the Blackbird for all of your people," Sean said.

* * *

Alex looked in the mirror. A bruise was forming on his jaw, although he wasn't sure just when he had gotten it. Most of his body ached though, so he didn't think that it was unusual that he should be somewhat banged up. He'd always gotten banged up. Alex liked to think of himself as being able to take the damage.

He snapped on his gloves and shrugged on his coat. Alex looked himself over once. He looked as though he were ready to go into a simulation. However, he had to remember that he wasn't at Westchester, and he was far away from his team. His tenuous ally was better than nothing though.

Alex stretched once. The cloth of the coat slid over the cloth of his uniform. It was padded, built for maximum protection, but at the same time for maximum durability. He flexed his fingers in his gloves. Nothing caught. Hank had designed the uniforms well, but he needed to make sure that nothing was wrong before he went out into combat. He always did.

He nodded once and walked out of the bathroom. Magnetrix was seated on the edge of the bed, her hair stuffed back into the hood that shaded her face. Alex adjusted his gloves and zipped up the coat. It looked normal enough if he did that. His uniform was the only thing that would make someone raise their eyebrows.

Magnetrix looked up at him.

"Are you done primping?" she asked.

"Yeah, just needed to powder my nose Trixie," he said.

Magnetrix frowned, but he could have sworn the corners of her lips had almost turned up. He filed that away for later.

"I brought anything important in my pockets," Alex said, "We won't be returning here."

"I didn't think so," Magnetrix said, "Back to the factory?"

"Back to the factory," Alex said, "I got a good look at it from the outside, so I can probably find it again, no problem."

She nodded and got up. He could see her Kevlar vest beneath her coat and the glint of knives. He wondered if Azazel had taught her how to use them. The idea of the assassin being dead was a strange one. He'd tended to enough injuries caused by him, both on Hank and later Clarice, to wish that he was dead. However, it was still a strange thought.

"So," Alex said, "we leave through the back."

"Obviously," Magnetrix said.

She paused for a moment.

"Do you smell that?" she asked.

"Smell what?" Alex said.

Magnetrix's frown deepened, and then her eyes widened. She grabbed his arm and flung her hand out, the metal in the door forcing it open. Magnetrix shoved him out the door and rolled down the hall with him. Alex hit his head, barely managing to keep from hurting himself. He lifted his head to ask what the hell was going on just as the room blew up.

He watched as the fire licked the outside of the room, heard the fire alarm go off. He looked over at Magnetrix, whose hood had flown back and her green hair trickled down her back. She looked back at him, her dark green eyes boring into his. He decided to cancel his original question and replace it with an observation.

"Looks like Black Tom moves fast," he said.


	14. Chapter 14

February 20, 1974

"Yes, of course."

Terry peeked out from underneath the blanket. She could see a sliver of light from the other side of the door. Terry inched forward and peered out. She could just make out her uncle's shoes on the other side. She rolled back and wrapped the blanket around her again, but his voice continued to filter through the wall.

"No, it's just a blip in the road."

Her uncle sounded agitated. That was good. Terry could feel something inside of her, something that wanted him to feel agitated. Perhaps Lorna had escaped. She wouldn't let what he had done to Azazel go. Terry hoped that she cared enough about her to try to help her too. She knew that Lorna cared, but Terry didn't know just what to expect from people anymore.

"I swear, the plan can still go forward. If things went well at the hotel then this won't even matter."

Terry continued to listen. It wasn't as though she could avoid it.

"Yes. Yes of course. I understand. Phase two will be initiated immediately."

There was a clicking sound, almost like someone was hanging up a phone. Terry curled in tighter. Her uncle had sounded almost afraid. She was glad. Not only did it mean that something was happening, but if she was lucky he might be too distracted to remember her. It would mean not getting fed, but she could hold out for a little bit.

The door to the closet opened suddenly, the bright light making her wince. Her uncle grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet.

"Come on," he snarled, "We're leaving."

He pulled her along the hallway. Terry had to bite back tears. She should have known better. She was never lucky.

* * *

For a moment all Lorna could do was stare. The words had tumbled effortlessly off of Havok's lips, their biting anger dulled by what she could only assume was sarcasm. The fact that he had said anything at all in light of what had nearly happened was, in Lorna's mind, one of the strangest things she had ever observed.

The explosion hadn't shaken him. Lorna knew that such an explosion wouldn't shake her father or most of the other people she knew, but they wouldn't act as though it had been a mere annoyance. He might have just been stung by a mosquito instead of having been flung out of a room that exploded. She was unsure if that was bravery or stupidity, but she doubted that it was the latter.

Lorna envied his poise. Some part of her was still processing what had happened. Azazel had trained her to keep this part down to background noise, but it was still there. A small voice told her this had happened because she had insisted on going her own way, on not waiting for her father. She became aware that she had only been on a handful of missions, and those had been infinitely less complicated than what she was trying to do.

Next to her she heard Havok sigh, his tone still irritated. Lorna wondered if he knew just how few missions she had been on. She had never thought it strange. There was no reason for her to do too many important missions. Her power was a replica of her father's, although not as powerful. There would be no point to having two metal benders go on the same team. It would be wasting resources. Lorna had always thought that she was being used as they needed her, and she had never complained.

Now Lorna recognized it for what it was: a handicap. She supposed that her father had intended on phasing her into the more dangerous combative roles. Lorna had fought in dangerous situations before, but only when the entire Brotherhood had been on a mission together. She had fought with Azazel as her partner, but Havok was very, very different from Azazel.

The thought of Azazel made her strong. Her mentor had died, the man who had helped raise her. She bit her lip as she pushed herself up. Lorna couldn't let her worries and insecurities get in her way. She had been trained all her adult life to defend her kind and her family. She wasn't going to shy away from her responsibility.

Havok got to his feet and brushed his coat off, his expression thoughtful as he stared at the remains of the hall. He shook his head.

"We need to get out of here before people start asking questions," he said.

Lorna nodded and the two of them hurried out of the hall. In all of the confusion they were able to slip out of the hotel and take to the streets. They walked for a while until Havok motioned towards an alley. Lorna took a quick look around to make sure that no one was watching before she slipped inside.

Havok stepped after her. He did a quick visual check of the alley before turning to her.

"How do you think they knew where we were?" he asked.

His voice was level, although there was another element in it. Lorna bristled.

"I didn't tell them," Lorna snapped.

"Don't take that tone," Havok said, "I wasn't accusing you of anything Trixie. I just want to know if you know anything I don't, because as far as I understand they would have no way of knowing where the guy who busted up their factory was staying. Obviously there was no tracker since we ditched the truck, and one of us would have noticed if we were tailed."

Lorna bit the inside her cheek, feeling embarrassed. She resisted the urge to turn her head away. Instead she flicked through her mind.

"I think they might have traced the call," Lorna said.

Havok frowned.

"How?" he asked.

He sounded genuinely puzzled. Lorna sighed.

"Black Tom is scum," Lorna said, "We never liked having him around, even at the beginning."

Lorna still remembered when they had been introduced. Her father's voice had been slightly chilly. She had immediately forgotten it when she saw Terry though. Lorna had been so distracted by her that she hadn't noticed much about Black Tom. It was three days before she realized what kind of man he was.

Terry. Lorna swallowed, wondering how the child was doing. She had been taken from a violent scene and was probably terrified. Lorna didn't doubt for a moment that Black Tom had taken her from the base. He wouldn't let her die. He would hurt her, but something in him wanted to keep her alive.

Lorna shook her head. She would never understand him.

"He had a rather unique skill set though," Lorna said, "To start with he had an extensive network of criminal contacts. It was enough to transport information, goods, and people without anyone noticing us."

"That can't be the only reason," Havok said, "It's no secret that you have your own ways of doing that, and that predates Black Tom."

Lorna inclined her head. It was the only acknowledgement of that she was going to give. Havok seemed to understand, since he didn't press the subject. Lorna was glad. She was already going to give away quite a bit about Brotherhood operations, but she didn't see that she had any other choice.

"He also had a good knowledge of circuitry, one that none of us possessed," Lorna said, "He had a special design for perimeters using telephone technology."

Havok nodded.

"Okay, I get that," he said, "But if he didn't know where I was staying, then he wouldn't be able to tap my phone."

"He doesn't need to know the phone," Lorna said, "I'm not too sure about how it works, but he had a method that allowed him to search calls for specific words. He could use areas that were about the size of a small city."

Understanding dawned on Havok's face.

"He'd have had to have the city tapped for a while before he arrived here with you," Alex said, "Which means that when I called Westchester to tell them I arrived-"

"He targeted your room," Lorna said, "Which means that that explosion was meant to kill you. Not the two of us: you."

"He was targeting me before I went and followed those trucks," Havok said.

He looked thoughtful.

"Now, Black Tom hates me," he said, "So I suppose he'd want to kill me."

"Why does he hate you?" Lorna asked.

The question came out of nowhere. Havok shrugged.

"I told him that if he pressed charges on Banshee after a fight that I'd kill him," Havok said, "Or at least inconvenience him."

He shrugged. Lorna made a face.

"I thought X-men don't do that sort of thing," she said.

Havok narrowed his eyes.

"We protect our family," he said, "If you don't think that we do that, then you don't know shit about us."

She folded her arms.

"Now who's accusing who?" Lorna said.

Havok snorted and waved a hand.

"It can't be that he wants me dead though," Havok said, "He could have tried something much sooner if that was the case. No…he wanted me dead for another reason."

He rubbed his chin.

"So, I die from an explosion," he said, "That was the plan."

Havok paused.

"By the way, did I thank you?" he asked.

"What?" Lorna asked.

"Back there, in the hall," Havok said impatiently, "Did I thank you?"

For a moment Lorna wondered if he was making fun of her. After a minute of silence she shook her head.

"Thanks then," he said.

Lorna raised her eyebrows, but Havok plowed on.

"Let's see here," he murmured, "He wanted me dead, but not for revenge. He might have thought that I would get in his way-"

"But killing you would bring down the X-men," Lorna said, "Especially in such a combative manner."

Havok nodded.

"He couldn't have wanted that," he said.

His face changed.

"Then again, he wasn't exactly subtle when he left the Brotherhood, was he?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Lorna asked.

"Well, think about it for a minute," Havok said, "He killed Azazel, which there was no way in hell that you guys were going to let go, and then he kidnapped you. If killing Azazel didn't piss off Magneto, than taking you would. He chose the most high profile targets he could."

"Azazel was probably just a target of convenience," Lorna said, though it pained her to talk about Azazel's death in such terms, "I think my capture was fairly obvious. He was probably planning on using me as a human shield once he accidentally killed Azazel."

"Yeah, but how long would that have worked?" Havok said, "I mean, it wouldn't take Magneto and the rest of the Brotherhood long to find you."

Lorna nodded slowly.

"I think I see what you're getting at," Lorna said, "His plans seem designed to piss off the X-men and the Brotherhood."

She bit her lip. Her father had always taught her to think logically, that her mind would succeed when all else failed.

"You were alone," Lorna said, her voice slow, "So maybe he wanted to get someone by themselves and then kill them in a blatantly obvious way. It wouldn't matter who. And then…"

Her voice dropped off as the pieces fell into place.

"You were supposed to die tonight," Lorna said.

"Looks like," Havok said.

"I was supposed to arrive in the city tonight," Lorna said, "How much do you want to bet that I would have been released around the hotel?"

Havok's eyes widened. He understood.

"Then it would have seemed like you did it," Havok said, "But the Brotherhood would know that you didn't-"

"Let's be honest here," Lorna said, "If you saw some evidence that the Brotherhood had killed a member of your team, and then they came to you with a rather complex story about how that member had been kidnapped, would you have believed them?"

Havok hesitated.

"The Professor probably would have," he said, "But I'd be suspicious in the very least. And the rest of the team…"

He trailed off, confirming what Lorna already knew.

"Sonuvabitch," he said, "He wanted the teams angry at each other."

Havok looked at Lorna and shook his head.

"But why?" Alex asked, "Why would he do that?"

Lorna sighed and rubbed her temples.

"I have no clue," she said.


	15. Chapter 15

February 20, 1974

Sean strode down the hallway, feeling uncomfortable. The uniform seemed strange after all the years spent away from it. It was lucky that they had a spare. He'd managed to dig out his old cape too. In past times he'd been able to use a long coat for short journeys from rooftop to rooftop or to give him a soft landing. Fighting Black Tom wouldn't give him any such luxuries.

Charles wheeled next to him, his lips pursed. They had stayed together in his office for a little while to discuss plans once Erik had left. He'd shown Sean where they had kept one of the extra uniforms. Hank had made up several before departing. Any tailoring was still sent to him though. He was still their unofficial costume designer.

The fabric was familiar, although there had been some alterations. The fabric felt softer, almost as though it would slide over his skin better. Hank had always wanted to find some sort of fabric that would wick away perspiration before it became a real problem. He supposed that this was Hank's answer to that.

The colors had changed too, although he already knew that. Hank had told him that the original colors were a necessity: the specific fiber weaves that he had used required the fabrics to be blue and yellow. He had obviously come up with a black cloth of a superior design. The yellow remained unchanged.

Sean tried to look as though putting on the uniform was like putting on a second skin. In reality it was like he was winding the clock back, but he was encountering resistance with every step. No matter what, he was no longer eighteen, and it no longer felt like he had his whole life in front of him to fight for.

He shook his head. He couldn't be worrying about that now. Charles was probably already worrying plenty about him, him and the rest of the X-men. They had never done such an extensive team-up with the Brotherhood before, and it didn't feel good for him to be leading up the effort. Charles hadn't led a field team since Cuba, and Alex was out of their reach. Sean was barely more than a stranger to the team.

His nerves felt like they were stretched to a breaking point. It was almost as though he had been balancing on a tight rope before, but now he had fallen and was trying to get himself across by his fingertips. It had been so easy for him to know what he needed to do, what he should do. Executing that vision was turning out to be a much bigger problem than he had imagined.

Sean could feel the anxiety building up inside of him. Who was he kidding? He didn't know who the teenagers he was working with were. Hank would know better than he did. Sean resisted the urge to run to the phone and ask him to come. He would know their weaknesses and strengths much better.

"The team should be assembled in the hanger by now," Charles said.

He sighed.

"Unfortunately that means that the Brotherhood will be there too," Charles said, "I told Erik to make sure that he minds his soldiers, but I'm not sure if he will."

One more thing to worry about.

"The X-men should be able to handle themselves well," Charles said.

"I think so," Sean said.

Charles furrowed his brow and Sean realized that he had answered him in a flat tone of voice. He winced.

"I wish we had more people," Charles said.

"Well, we do," Sean said.

Charles looked up at him and Sean cursed himself.

"Not with us. I just meant in general. I don't think that it's important enough to call Hank though," Sean clarified.

"This is important, but you're right. We can't risk calling him down here right now," Charles said, "He's doing important work in Washington right now. Not to mention he has Carly's pregnancy. Involving him, especially after what happened with the Friends of Humanity, could cause more harm than good."

Sean nodded. He remembered watching Hank stagger into the main foyer, his eyes searching for Carly through his battered frame. Hank had always struggled with his feral side, insisting that he would not let it rule him. On that night though, it had been clear that he had given over to it wholeheartedly, his vision tunneled onto his wife and an unearthly rage directed towards those who had hurt her.

Sean rubbed the back of his neck. He'd never seen Hank like that before, and it gave him shivers just to think about it.

"He still deserves to be told," Sean said.

"Moira and I will take care of that," Charles said, "But be sure to keep in close contact when you're over there."

"I will," Sean said.

Charles hesitated, as though unsure how to proceed.

"Sean, I know this is going to be difficult for you," he said, his voice gentle.

Sean closed his eyes for a minute, although he kept walking.

"I know that you were once close to your cousin and…well…after everything that happened-" Charles began.

"Please, just stop," Sean said.

He stopped walking and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I can do this," he said.

Sean wasn't sure just who he was talking to, but he knew that it had to be said.

"My cousin stopped being my cousin a long time ago," Sean said, "And yes, you're right, it's been a while since I did this. But I haven't been a couch potato since then either. I'm can do this."

He opened his eyes. Charles was looking at him, a depth of sympathy in his eyes.

"Sean, I don't doubt that you can do this," he said, his voice soft, "Just that you will."

"That makes me feel so much better," Sean said irritably.

Charles leaned back in his chair.

"Sean, I know you have the capability to do this," he said, "I just…I know that it's hard to find the will to go on sometimes."

Sean gritted his teeth, remembering the conversation that he'd had right after Maeve and his daughter had died. Charles had said almost the exact same thing to him. At the time Sean had mostly tuned him out, too numb to listen to more than every other word. Now it was the last thing that Sean wanted to hear.

"And sometimes it seems like it's just better to take the easy way out. Sometimes it seems like the world would be better if you just gave up," Charles said, "I know what that feels like, and I want you to promise me that you won't do that."

"What the hell would you know about that?" Sean snapped.

Charles gave him an even look.

"Perhaps I don't know quite as much about loss as you do," Charles said, "But I do know something about the subject."

Sean bit his lip and turned away, feeling ashamed.

"You have Moira though," Sean said, "Her and your son."

There was a slight pause.

"I know," Charles said, "It's why I said I don't know as much as you do. But Sean, you said that you wanted to start living again when you returned to Westchester."

"I did," Sean said.

"And part of that means acknowledging pain and trying to work through it," Charles said, "No matter what the cost."

Sean nodded and looked back at Charles.

"I miss what I was like when I didn't know that," he said.

"We all do," Charles said.

Sean swallowed.

"I want to be better for them Charles," he said.

"I know," Charles said.

Feeling strange Sean looked towards the end of the hall.

"They're waiting for me," Sean said, "They think that I have all the answers."

Charles nodded.

"I know," he said, "And that does make it difficult. But we didn't take on the burden that we did unknowingly."

Sean nodded. He swallowed again before they went into the hanger. The X-men were suited up and standing next to the Blackbird. Moira was with them, speaking in hushed tones. Every now and then they would throw an angry glance at the Brotherhood, who would return the look in kind.

He had his work cut out for him. Still, he had to begin it somewhere. He walked up to Erik, bundling up his thoughts and fears and shoving them as far away from him as he could.

"Co-pilot seat is open," he said.

Erik looked at him, his expression calculating. He could practically hear the horrified expressions of the X-men. He couldn't blame them. The idea of having Erik so far to the front of the Blackbird, the place where all of the information came in, was not a good one. The Blackbird was a technological marvel whose full capacity was known only to the X-men.

Sean's instincts told him that the X-men should be at the front of the Blackbird. The Brotherhood would be placed in the very back, far away from the displays and anything that the could later use against them. Keeping the teams separate would also mean that they would be able to defend themselves easier if they attacked.

However, Sean knew that the peace between the two groups was tentative at best. The X-men were worried about Alex, and that was the only thing that was keeping them from launching themselves at the Brotherhood. They all had old scores to settle, scars from when they had been hurt, times when they had seen their friends hurt. Sean could still remember when Emma had nearly punched a hole in his chest, stopped only by Hank at the last minute.

He needed to show Erik that he was willing to work with him. It was the only way that they were going to get anything done.

"Well?" Sean asked.

"It seems fair," Erik said.

"But-" Warren began.

"Do you have something to say Archangel?" Sean said, glancing over his shoulder.

He knew that his eyes were narrowed, his expression biting. Warren looked down.

"No Banshee."

Sean's breath caught. It had been a very, very long time since anyone had called him that. He gave a sharp nod before gesturing to the Blackbird. Warren was right, this was no time to be Sean Cassidy. He needed to be Banshee again, and he needed to be Banshee in a way that he had never been in the past.

He could do it.

* * *

Charles watched as the Blackbird took off. Moira stood beside him, her arms crossed.

"I'm worried Charles," she said.

Her voice was soft and tired. She felt exhausted, almost as though she had just run a marathon.

"We've done the best we can," Charles said, "I just wish…"

He sighed.

"This mission is very, very dangerous, and they're still very young in many regards," Charles said, "Scott especially."

Moira nodded.

"He still thinks that the X-men will always win," she said, "That good will always triumph over evil."

"It's going to be hard when he finds out otherwise, and I'm worried that this mission might teach him a lesson he isn't ready for," Charles said.

"Unfortunately, Scott's type of innocence is something that vanishes very easily," Moira said, "Preserving it is difficult."

Charles sighed.

"But we still have to try," he said, "You know, Scott wants to be like Alex, but I think that he's more like Sean was at his age. So full of hope for the world."

Charles looked up at Moira.

"I just wish we had prepared Sean," he said.

She hesitated before taking his hand. He turned away.

"We couldn't have prepared him for what happened," Moira said, "You can't prepare anyone for that sort of thing Charles. You know that as well as I do."

"I understand that. I just wish that we could have," Charles said.

Moira rubbed her thumb across his knuckles almost absently. His hand was limp in hers, almost as though he didn't notice that she was holding it. She fought the feelings that were welling deep inside of her.

"I best go get David," she said, "He must be wondering where I am. I'll man the radios afterwards."

"Thank you," Charles said.

Moira let go of his hand. She stopped in the doorway and looked at her husband. Moira bit the inside of her cheek before speaking.

"We all wish for a lot of things Charles," she said, "But there's a point in our lives when we realize that we're not going to get them."

He turned and looked at her, his eyes surprised and pained. Without another word she slipped through the doorway and headed upstairs.


	16. Chapter 16

February 20, 1974

Alex adjusted his binoculars at the factory that they had escaped out of. Hank had always included miniature binoculars in the utility belts that the uniforms came with. They were compact, light, and intensely useful. He could see two soldiers going back and forth in front of the smashed door. There were still more crates, but it appeared that they hadn't been able to move out of the factory yet. They hadn't been able to clean-up the debris either. All the better for them.

At the moment they were just on stake-out. They had been lucky to escape the way that they had. Alex had been relieved that, despite their differences, Magnetrix understood that there was a good reason for pre-planning. She had noticed things about patrols quicker than he had, and he wondered just how many stake-outs she had been involved in. He supposed that the number was high, although he couldn't remember seeing her on many missions.

He looked back at Magnetrix. She began to pull her hair out of her hood, allowing thick tendrils of it to frame her face. The lush green was a stark contrast to the dark purples and reds of her coat. The hood cast a shadow over the top of her head. He continued to stare, and she turned her head, her eyes suddenly meeting his.

"What?" she asked.

Alex started and swallowed.

"Why don't you put your hair up?" he asked.

Magnetrix quirked her eyebrow. She pursed her lips.

"I don't see why that matters," she said.

"I'd just imagine that it gets in the way," Alex said, "We had to introduce regulation about keeping hair back in the X-men when Marvel Girl, Storm, and Blink joined, although Storm likes to flaunt it."

"Makes sense," Magnetrix said.

"How?" Alex said.

Magnetrix gave a soft laugh.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but Storm is the one with the dark skin and the white hair, isn't she?" she asked.

There was no point denying it.

"Yeah," Alex said.

She wrapped one of her fingers around her green hair.

"When people first saw my hair, they thought I was some kind of freak," Magnetrix said, "I was upset about what they thought. I'm not so upset anymore."

Magnetrix crossed her arms as she looked down at the factory.

"So I'd say that Storm isn't upset anymore either," Magnetrix said, "And what better way to show that then to let the world see your pride?"

Alex scoffed.

"Look, that's all inspirational and shit, but if an enemy grabs your hair or something, then you're screwed," Alex said.

She unwound her hair from her finger.

"I should have thought that you wouldn't have understood."

"No, I understand," Alex said, bringing the binoculars back up to his eyes and looking over the factory, "But it occurs to me that, just maybe, not everything in life is about being a mutant or a human. Sometimes there are things that you do to keep yourself alive that are smart and apply to both races. And, included in that, is keeping your hair back so that you don't end up getting hurt or killed."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Magnetrix glare at him.

"You still don't get it," she said.

He pulled the binoculars away from his face.

"Look, Trixie," Alex said, turning to her, "This isn't a mutant versus humans debate. It never is, never has been. I'm just saying that your ego isn't as important as staying safe."

"My ego?" Magnetrix said, her eyes flashing.

"Something you want to say?" Alex snapped.

Magnetrix raised her hand. The binoculars flew in front of her face, the metal clasps obeying her command. A minute later they flew back into his hand.

"I can see about fifteen ways to get in without us being noticed," she said, "You don't know my skill set, but for some reason you just assume that nothing I have to say is important, since you haven't asked."

He felt heat rise into his cheeks. He should have asked her, but he hadn't thought of it as important.

"I wish you would stop treating me like I'm an X-man who's going to listen to you no matter what," she said, "I won't blindly follow you."

His irritation flooded back.

"Oh, believe me," Alex said, "In the past few hours, I've never once mistaken you for an X-man."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"It is to me," Magnetrix said.

She stepped up beside him and pointed to the assembled soldiers.

"This is what we're facing," Magnetrix said, "Soldiers and all other types of nasties with lots of equipment. And how would your precious X-men have handled this?"

"We would have taken care of it," Alex said.

"That's not an answer," Magnetrix said, "You all care more about collateral damage than you do about the outcome."

Alex's eyes narrowed. He hated the term 'collateral damage.' The first time he'd seen it was in the reports of what had happened on Cuba when they secretly raided the CIA two weeks after Charles had sent Moira away. They'd had to erase every mention of their existence. It turned out that Moira would have been listed as 'collateral damage' if the plan had succeeded.

He'd still missed her something fierce at the time, the way she validated them all, and how much happier Charles was when he was with her. The idea that she would be brushed off just as easily as a destroyed building was a disturbing one, one that had him ban the word from Danger Room sessions.

"Define collateral damage," he said, his voice low.

Magnetrix furrowed her brow, perhaps catching his tone. She kept plowing on though.

"It's unimportant," she said.

"Collateral damage is a term people use when they want to justify lives that could have been spared and pain that could have been avoided," Alex said, "People use it as an excuse for laziness. Do you know what collateral damage really is?"

He didn't wait for her response.

"It's destroyed lives and caused unaccountable anguish that could have been spared if more care had been taken," Alex said, "And because we take that care we can avoid collateral damage. Anyone who doesn't uses it as their own personal shield against their guilt, not caring when the world burns if it gives them what they want."

A touch of uncertainty crossed her features. He relished in it. Magnetrix preyed on his last nerve. He didn't like that he was working with her, and he supposed that they were going to have to have an argument sooner or later. He'd known that it was coming, and he was determined to win it.

He wasn't going to give an inch to a child of the Brotherhood, a girl who would wear her hair down to show off her mutant status rather than do the sensible thing. Alex was never going to get a chance to tell Erik exactly what he thought of his damned Brotherhood, but Magnetrix was there. From what he'd seen of her, she was very much her father's daughter.

"I know you don't give a damn about human lives and what happens to good people," Alex snapped, "But we do."

Her eyes flashed again.

"Don't you dare say that," Magnetrix said.

"And why not?" he snapped, "It's true, isn't it?"

Her hands clenched into fists.

"Don't you dare talk as if you know me," Magnetrix said.

"Then don't you talk as if you know me," Alex snarled.

Magnetrix turned her head, her hood shadowing her eyes.

"What exactly do you plan on doing when you find Black Tom?" she asked.

The question threw him off guard.

"What?" he asked.

"I know you heard me," she said.

Alex shrugged, trying to pretend as though he wasn't rattled by their conversation.

"Turn him into the cops, put him in prison, something like that," he said, "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

Magnetrix snorted softly.

"What?" he asked.

"You're very naïve," she said.

"I've seen more action than you," Alex said.

"Doesn't make you wise," Magnetrix said.

"And I suppose you think that you're some sort of genius," Alex said.

"There you go again," Magnetrix said, "Acting as though you know me. You don't."

He shook his head. Her petulance was starting to give him a headache. Part of him wanted, more than anything, to concentrate on the task at hand. The rest of him couldn't. He was too angry. Charles had always said that it would get the better of him, and for once, he was prepared to let it.

"I know plenty," he said.

"Oh really?" she asked, "What makes you such an authority?"

"I know your type," Alex said, "I've been fighting people like you since I was fifteen."

She laughed.

"Eleven years and such little progress?" she asked, "That must drive you mad."

He glared at her.

"Less so than it drives your father," he said.

The mirth left her face.

"Don't bring my father into this," she said.

"You think I've made little progress at Westchester?" Alex said, "At least we've helped classes of students accept themselves and make their way in the world-"

"You've hobbled them," Magnetrix said.

"-and they've been able to live because of us," Alex continued, ignoring her, "We've saved them. What do you have to show for what you do? Some new recruits, injuries, and a lot of failed plans."

"At least we're working on something," Magnetrix snapped.

"You're counter-productive," Alex said, "I've been to places where they had only seen the Brotherhood before, and they hated us for it. You go around giving mutants a bad name. What you're doing isn't courageous: it's stupid and destructive."

"And you're weak," Magnetrix said, "You accept scraps when you should be feasting. My father respects the Professor, he's naïve but at least-"

"Now that's rich," Alex said.

Magnetrix rolled her eyes.

"The only one of you who's actually done something is McCoy," she said, "He made a decisive strike for mutant equality that got him somewhere."

A venomous response formed on his tongue, ready to be flung out, when he digested her words.

"Equality?" Alex asked, "I thought you were all about superiority."

She tilted her head upwards.

"I said not to talk about me as if you knew me."

Alex gave her a long look, his mind whirring away. She looked genuinely outraged, as though his words had truly shocked and offended her. He couldn't understand it. He knew whose daughter she was, and he'd heard Erik talk about humans as though they were expendable many times in the past.

It struck him then that, just maybe, Magnetrix wasn't her father's clone. She was looking at him as though she wanted to punch him for everything that he'd said. Perhaps she was telling the truth, perhaps she meant what she said about humans and mutants. He didn't know, and he didn't have the time to find out.

"Perhaps," he said.

Magnetrix gave a sharp nod.

"You don't," she said.

He shifted the binoculars in his grip, feeling uncomfortable. He wasn't prepared for the situation that she was putting him in. Alex cleared his throat.

"You said you could see fifteen ways in," he said.

"That's right," she said.

Alex swallowed a little of his pride before he looked over at her.

"Mind pointing them out to me?" he asked.

Magnetrix glanced at him before nodding in a more natural fashion.

"Sure thing Scholastic," she said.


	17. Chapter 17

February 21, 1974

Sean got up and stretched. His back ached unbelievably and his head hurt even worse. He didn't understand how he could feel like this. He hadn't been in the Blackbird for too long. However, the tension had been thick enough to cut with a knife, and the sheer pressure of what was happening had pressed down on him.

He looked around the house. It was a small facility, a Brotherhood location that they were using to plan their next step. They were confident that Black Tom didn't know about it, but he wasn't so sure. The X-men were doing their own patrols in addition to the Brotherhood ones. It was the only way he could think to involve them without allowing the two teams to intermingle for long periods.

Erik had agreed. He was too obsessed with finding his daughter to worry about things like that. Sean was worried about how long it was taking for Alex to check in. He couldn't get ahold of the hotel that he was at, and Sean knew that he was going to have to take a look at it to see what had happened.

The door opened and Scott walked in.

"Hey," he said, "I just finished my shift."

"Thanks," Sean said, "Get some rest and I'll take over. We'll start the search tomorrow."

"Are you sure we can't start sooner?" Scott said, his voice pleading.

Sean ran a hand through his hair.

"It's late," he said, "Alex will probably by lying low. I think Magnetrix wants to get to Black Tom pretty bad, so I don't think that she'll hurt him."

Scott still looked uncertain.

"If it makes you feel any better, I really think that the Brotherhood wants to help," Sean said, "They want to protect their own. We wouldn't have agreed to work with them otherwise."

"I know," Scott said.

He shrugged.

"I'm just worried," he said, "I can't help it."

He paused and swallowed.

"But it won't affect my performance," Scott said, "You can count on that."

Sean nodded, but he knew that he couldn't. He remembered when Alex had carried Scott into the building, a small child scared of his own shadow. Alex had acted more like a father than a brother, mostly because he'd been forced into that role, but also because he couldn't bear to think of his brother going through what he had.

As such Scott had constantly sought Alex's approval. He looked up to him as both a father and a perfect older brother, and it was a potent combination. At one point Sean had hoped to inspire the love and loyalty that Scott displayed towards Alex in his daughter, but that possibility had been taken.

"We'll figure out what's going on," Sean said, "If I know Alex he may have the whole thing solved and just forgotten to call."

Scott managed a weak smile, but Sean could tell that he didn't believe it. Sean clapped him on the shoulder once as he headed out the door.

"Get some rest," he said.

"Yes sir."

Sean stepped out into the hallway, bypassing Angel and Mystique. Mystique was staring ahead, her eyes dead as Angel whispered a few soft words to her. She stopped when Sean came into the hall and stared at him angrily. He rolled his eyes at his former friend before striding out the door into the cold night air.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked a little further out. They were about an hour away from the city, the house nestled in a secluded place. He wondered how many different hideouts the Brotherhood had stationed around the states, around the world if he really thought about it. The X-men set up no bases, but the Brotherhood sunk their roots in.

Sean pulled his coat around him and looked up at the stars. They were so clear that night. He wondered if Alex was seeing them too, if he was alright. His friend was strong, but he did worry. They had never really seen Magnetrix's power, so they didn't have much to compare it to. He supposed it was like her father's, but he didn't know how much she had in common with her father's power level. Perhaps she would betray him, perhaps she wouldn't. There was no way of knowing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to concentrate, and his thoughts weren't helping.

"Long night?"

Shivers ran down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His eyes flew open and he spun around. Black Tom stood a few feet away from him, leaning against a tree. Dark circles made his eyes look sunk in, his expression haggard but a grin fixed onto his thin lips.

Sean opened his mouth, sucking in as much air as he could for a scream, but Black Tom waved his hand.

"No need for that. I'm not here to fight," he said.

Sean narrowed his eyes.

"You tried to kill members of both the Brotherhood and the X-men," Sean said.

"I succeeded in one case," Black Tom said, "But I'm not feeling in the mood for a fight Seanny."

The use the name, coupled with Black Tom's tone, made him wince. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that. The last time it had been used was when he had been twelve. It brought different times to mind, times before his mutation had manifested, before he'd joined the X-men, before his cousin had betrayed him, and before he'd met a beautiful girl with golden hair and hazel eyes.

It only served to make him angrier.

"Then why are you here?" he said.

Black Tom smirked, tapping his shillelagh against his leg.

"Oh, I think it's time for a little family reunion," he said.

"Oh," Sean said, "Is that all?"

"That's all," Black Tom said.

For a minute they stared at each other. Black Tom continued to smirk. Sean lunged forward and knocked him to the ground, his fists smashing into Black Tom's face. Black Tom's hands flailed in front of him, but Sean managed to knock them out of the way. When he was younger and he'd get into fights with his cousin he'd been smaller and weaker. He'd always lost. It wasn't that way anymore.

One of Black Tom's hands got free and struck Sean in the face. He reeled back and Black Tom tried to get to his feet, to bring his shillelagh around. Sean threw his weight behind a throat punch. He barely knew what he was doing as he blocked blow after blow from his cousin, his body moving of its own accord.

He wasn't Banshee then, fighting with his mutation for mutantkind. He wasn't even the Interpol agent that he had desperately tried to be for the past few years. He was himself, mixed with a hint of the animal-like rage that had consumed him the day he'd found out that Maeve had died, to unfocused to use his mutation.

A blast of heat skimmed his arm and Sean snarled. His cousin tried to get out of his way, but Sean tackled him again, pressing his head into the ground. He knocked the shillelagh out of his hand, sending it spiraling into the damp leaves and dirt. Sean applied pressure on his neck, digging Black Tom's face into the ground.

"I should call for Magneto right now," Sean hissed, "He has some questions about his daughter."

"I have no clue where the bitch is," Black Tom laughed.

"That's not going to cut it," Sean said.

Black Tom continued laughing.

"What the hell is so funny?" Sean snapped.

"Oh, I don't know where Magneto's daughter is," he said.

Sean snorted. Something about the way he'd emphasized Magneto's name was unsettling, but he ignored it.

"Yeah, whatever," he said, "I'm marching you in there right now-"

"I really think you should listen," Black Tom said.

His voice, despite his predicament, wasn't panicked. Sean hesitated. His cousin was brimming with confidence. Black Tom had never been a wonderful thinker, but he wasn't stupid either. He knew something, and that something had made him confident enough to march right up to his enemy's camp alone.

"You have precisely two minutes before I call for Magneto," Sean said, "He won't be as gentle as I am."

"Since when did you get so chummy?" Black Tom said.

"One and a half now," Sean said.

Black Tom turned his head slightly, his dark eyes looking at Sean mockingly.

"You think you're so righteous, you and the rest of the X-men," he said, "But you'd do anything to get what you want in the end."

"One minute," Sean said.

"It's simple," Black Tom said, "I have a client who wants someone in the X-men for purposes of their own. I think it would take a while, but they would kill them in the end."

Sean pulled Black Tom's head back further. Black Tom grunted in pain.

"Who's your client?" Sean said.

"I'm not telling you that," Black Tom said.

Sean ground his head back.

"Who?" he demanded.

Black Tom chuckled.

"You still think that you're in control," he said.

Sean snorted.

"I don't even want to dignify that with a response," he spat.

"Oh, you do," Black Tom said, "Now then, I would like your help."

Sean was torn between laughing and punching him again.

"Something is wrong with you," Sean said.

"I think you'll help," Black Tom said.

"You should be in a mental institution," Sean snapped.

"No. I believe in bargains. That's all," Black Tom said.

"I'm not even listening anymore," Sean said, disgusted.

Black Tom started laughing again.

"And here I was thinking that you'd want to meet your daughter."

Sean froze. A second later his mind processed the words and he slammed Black Tom's face into the ground again.

"I should kill you now," he hissed.

"You're still so stupid," Black Tom laughed, "She has red hair and freckles, her mother's hazel eyes."

Sean slammed Black Tom's face back into the ground.

"Her name's Theresa. She's called Terry though."

He ground Black Tom's face further into the ground, tears spilling involuntarily from his eyes. They burned his skin and blurred his vision. He brought Black Tom's head back up again, the fury reaching a fever pitch in his mind.

"Look in my pocket if you doubt me," Black Tom laughed.

Sean hesitated. It was a trick. He knew it was a trick. Somehow he couldn't help his trembling hand as it pulled a photo out of Black Tom's pocket though. Hazel eyes stared up at him, obscured by a thick cloud of red hair. Sean swallowed a gasp, his throat constricting and his mind whirling.

"This is a trick," he choked out, "She…Maeve-"

"Gave birth early," Black Tom laughed, "One week before she insisted on driving to the store and died."

"You're lying!"

"Would I come here with a fabricated story like that?" Black Tom smirked, "No, you know I'm smarter than that. The look on your face. I've waited seven years to see that look!'

He pushed Sean off of him. Feeling weak Sean dropped to the ground, still clutching the photo. Anger began to well up in him as Black Tom began to pick up his shillelagh.

"And don't bother trying to kill me," Black Tom said, "If I'm not back within ten minutes my men have instructions to kill little Terry. Slowly."

Sean felt his lungs constrict, desperation filling him as well as something that felt like insanity. This couldn't be happening.

"Pathetic," Black Tom laughed.

He shook his head.

"But useful," he said, "Now, what I would like you to do is deliver one of the X-men. You all go places in packs, which makes it difficult to get to you. But if it was just you and him, well, you could do it. I believe his name is Cyclops."

Sean swallowed, trying to bring moisture to his mouth. It seemed that the nightmare could only get worse.

"Bring him to me, and I'll give you your daughter," Black Tom said casually, "But defy me, or even try to cross me, and I'll enjoy slitting her little freckled throat."

Sean felt his head swim, his eyes clouding up and his heart pounding in his ears. Black Tom laughed once before limping away.

"You'll hear from me soon," he said.


	18. Chapter 18

February 21, 1974

Terry curled up on her chair, her knees tucked beneath her chin. She was scared, and she had no clue where she was. Not that she had ever really known. Terry remembered the names of fun-sounding, exotic places, but she had rarely left the hotel or an apartment room. As a result her skin had stayed pale and her freckles more pronounced with every passing year.

There were people with guns outside the door to her room. They continued to talk on their radios, and every now and then one would look back at her. She curled up further on her chair. She didn't know why they were there, and it scared her. It seemed like everything scared her now, and she felt ashamed of that fear.

A shape moved to talk to the soldiers. They parted and Terry braced herself for her uncle to come in. Instead a tall, thin man with pale skin walked in. His expression was intense and his eyes were sharp. His lips curled into a smile when he saw her, but the expression was anything but kind.

She shrank further into herself.

"Now then, Terry Cassidy?" he asked.

Terry nodded. He stood by her and looked down at her, his eyes interested and cold.

"Now then," he said, "as I understand it your father was a mutant."

Terry didn't say anything, but he didn't seem to be waiting for a response from her.

"Well then," he said, "Well well."

He slipped his hand under her chin, forcing her to look up.

"I understand also that you haven't exhibited any type of mutation," he said.

She blinked, still unable to answer. Not that she had ever known her father.

"I would love to find out why that is," he said.

He turned her head again.

"Now, it might be because you are young, but I believe there are some tests that we can do when the time comes," he said, "Painful of course, but it would be interesting to find out why you're not like your father."

Terry's eyes widened and her mouth felt as though someone had glued it together.

"What are you doing?"

The man turned as her uncle strode into the room. The man's hand abandoned Terry's face and she ducked her head back onto her knees, trying to hide behind her hair.

"Nothing," the man said.

"I told you, she's not here for that," her uncle said.

"You're hardly in a position to be giving orders," the man said, "Or have your forgotten your recent failures?"

Her uncle paled, but he made a sweeping motion with his hand.

"I have other plans for her."

Terry bit her lip. She was scared even more than she had been before, and it was taking everything she had not to cry.

"Maybe not, if you fail. If you fail, I fail, and I will not tolerate that Cassidy."

"I won't fail," her uncle said, "The second part of the plan went off without a hitch."

The man's eyes lit up.

"Really?" he said.

"Really," her uncle said, "You'll have a Summers."

"The younger?"

"The younger," Black Tom said.

The man's dark eyes widened with delight, but it scared Terry even worse than his cold, blank look had.

"I must make preparations. The equipment must be moved out immediately," he babbled, "Oh, all my life…"

His face suddenly shut down.

"Don't disappoint me," he threatened, "The Friends of Humanity were the last people who disappointed me, and all I wanted from that was a woman pregnant with a mutant child. A Summers is a completely different matter."

"I won't," her uncle said.

"Good," the man said.

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Her uncle turned to her and sneered.

"It looks like you're finally going to be worth something," he said.

Terry didn't respond. Her uncle reached out and jerked her head up, staring at her.

"You really do have her eyes," he said, his voice distracted.

Terry swallowed, unsure of what he meant. His eyes narrowed.

"But the rest of you is his."

She braced for the slap even before it came. Terry held her cheek as he walked out of the room. She had known it was going to happen when he mentioned her mother. He always talked like that before he hurt her.

* * *

Lorna looked down at the factory, Havok by her side. She could see the men move back and forth, their tones hushed. She could hear a few snatches every now and then, but nothing that she could really use. It was frustrating, but she was used to not being able to get everything that she wanted in such situations.

She moved to her left, keeping her movements silent. Havok moved with her. The reluctant 'perhaps' that she had wrenched from his lips had been the closest that she had gotten to an apology. It was more than she expected. Her father had always told her that the X-men were obstinate in their naivety. She had assumed that Havok was the most pigheaded, both from his position and his demeanor. Lorna wondered just how much she really knew about the people she had been fighting all of her adult life.

Angrily she swept the thought away. She wasn't supposed to be thinking such treacherous thoughts. They were wrong and the exact opposite of useful. Lorna concentrated on the men as they continued to unload crates. Next to her Havok shifted, bowing his head downwards so he could get a closer look.

"Those are a lot of weapons," he murmured, "Black Tom can't be building an army."

"He has the funds for it, at least I think he does," Lorna whispered.

"How?" Havok asked.

She sighed. What would it hurt?

"He stole funds before he left," she muttered.

"He stole money too?" Havok asked.

He turned back to the factory.

"Shit, what is this asshole planning?" he asked.

Lorna shrugged.

"Obviously he wants our teams fighting each other," she said.

"Well, if we're any indication then I don't think that it will be that difficult," Havok said.

Despite the situation Lorna couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Havok looked over at her.

"So you can laugh," he said.

Lorna shrugged, trying to become sober again.

"I laughed earlier," she said.

"Yes, but that was different," he said, "You were mocking me."

Lorna rolled her eyes, but she allowed herself to smile a little. She had to stay on good terms with Havok, and the least she could do was try.

"It was too easy," she said.

He snorted, but she thought she saw him smile. Lorna was surprised at how easy it was to make him laugh. She supposed that he was trying to release some tension after their fight, but she had expected him to hold out more. Perhaps it was just their situation, or perhaps her theory about his lack of obstinacy was truer than she'd thought.

Either way, she didn't know yet.

"You sound like my students," he said.

"It's true," Lorna said.

He smirked.

"Okay, okay Trixie," he said.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," Lorna said.

"Hey, stop calling me Scholastic and I'll stop calling you Trixie," he said, "It seems fair to me."

"You can't expect me to stop calling you that," Lorna said, "Not after you just talked about being a teacher."

He laughed a little before his eyes focused on the scene below them. He pointed as a new crate of boxes was taken out, this one larger than the others. A pale man followed them, adjusting his coat. He looked around and barked out orders in a deep voice that belied his small figure.

"Now that is interesting," Havok said.

"Do you know him?"

"Never seen him before," Havok said, "I'm guessing you don't know who he is either?"

"Not a clue."

She peered a little closer.

"God, do you think he's ever seen the sunlight?" she asked.

"I doubt it," Havok said.

He pointed towards the box.

"It's marked fragile,'" he said, "It's hard to tell from this distance, but I'm pretty sure that's what's written."

"Huh," Lorna said.

She looked at the other boxes.

"Nothing else is marked 'fragile,'" she said.

"I know," Havok said, "Odd, isn't it?"

She pursed her lips.

"I'm going to go down there for a closer look," she said.

"Whoa," Havok said, putting his hand out in front of her, "No need for that."

"I think there is," Lorna said, "He's obviously doing something important, and we need to find out just what that is."

"Yeah, but I don't think that now is the time to blow our cover," Havok said, "They still outnumber us pretty bad."

"Don't worry about it," Lorna said, "I'm flexible, fast, and I have some pretty good acrobatic training."

She forced down a lump in her throat.

"Azazel taught me," she said.

Havok looked at her for a moment, his expression uncertain. He turned away. For a moment she thought that he was uncomfortable with her grief. The he looked back and his expression was all business. Lorna nodded to herself; she had just imagined it. He wouldn't care about the death of a Brotherhood member or the pain that would cause.

"Okay," he said, "Just be careful, okay?"

Lorna nodded. She slipped over one of the rails and began lowering herself. She saw the broken catwalk from her fight the day before. It seemed as though it had happened an age ago. Lorna slid over a rail, her coat sliding with her. It was made of fine, slippery material. It wouldn't snag on anything.

She grabbed another pole and dangled, looking down. She was almost out in the open, but no one was looking up. The pale man was making gestures, his eyes aflame. Lorna pulled herself onto another pole and began sliding down the wall. She had to loop through the broken metal, but she had climbed through several difficult terrains that Azazel had set up for her. It had become fun.

Lorna swung herself to another pole and further down. She was hidden by the shadows, but she was close to the man. She could see that he had black eyes, although she could have sworn that there was some red in them. Black and red eyes. No white, nothing to make him look even remotely human.

It appeared that Black Tom had recruited another mutant. She wanted to snarl at him for choosing Black Tom's cause instead of one that was at least worthy. There were so many better things in the world to fight for than money.

Lorna looked up. She saw Havok looking at her, urging her to come back up. She held up a finger and continued to peer at the scene. The boxes continued to roll in. Lorna heard the tinkle of glass as one of the boxes was placed close to her. She looked at the slats in the wood and saw that it was full of vials and beakers. Lab equipment.

She looked up at the pale man. He was some sort of scientist? Lorna bit her lip. What on earth was Black Tom doing with a scientist? She had only ever credited him with a low, vicious kind of intelligence. He wasn't the type to consult with men of learning, but he'd have had to get those weapons from somewhere.

A door opened across the hall. Lorna looked up and her breath caught in her throat. Anger clouded her eyes and her hands dug into the boxes around her. She could hear her pulse racing along with her heart, felt her eyes narrow as she glared across the room, the world tunneling down to that one point.

Black Tom strode into the room, his limping walk propelling him forwards. In one hand he held his shillelagh. With the other he dragged Terry forwards.


	19. Chapter 19

February 21, 1974

Sean stared helplessly forward, his veins full of ice and his mind lying in shattered pieces around him. He'd gotten to his feet, but he wasn't sure how. It just felt like he was lost and that the world around him was a dream, a horrible nightmare that was trying to swallow him whole. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get them to see clearer, but everything was blurry.

He rubbed his eyes again, trying to focus on something, anything. Black Tom's words continued to ring in his ears, like a sickened mantra. He had a daughter. Maeve had given birth early and their daughter hadn't been in the car crash. Theresa, or Terry as it appeared, had survived and just celebrated her seventh birthday.

It was difficult to breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing his heart and had punctured his lungs, letting the oxygen flood out. His skin felt raw and restricting, almost as though heavy, hot barbed wire was stretched across it. He was shocked that he was still standing, but his legs felt too leaden to fall.

The photo of the girl trembled in his hand. He wanted to look at it, wanted to see something that would prove Black Tom wrong. Of course he was wrong: he was lying. Somehow or another he was lying. When he finally found control enough to look at the photo, it only made things worse.

Terry was seven years old. Black Tom had given him the figure, but somehow now could believe it. She looked so small and, worse, she looked just like him. Her skin was pale like his, covered in freckles. Her hair was red and thick, falling around her face in unkempt tangles.

Terry's eyes were a hazel color, Maeve's strong eyes overcoming his genetics, framed by thick lashes. His mind jumbled around, remembering when they had gone to their meeting place in the woods outside Westchester. Maeve had been local and her father had been suspicious of both the Xavier family and the new school. As such he hadn't liked Sean from the outset.

Maeve had been headstrong though, and Sean had been so desperate to be close to her that they had found ways. Oftentimes the two of them would meet in the woods, a small clearing where the fireflies liked to dance in the night. He remembered once when the fireflies landed in her hair, giving her what looked like a crown of light.

That night she'd been worried though, her eyes wide and her lip red from biting. Sean had been worried that she had given in to her father's demands and she was going to leave. He wanted to beg her to stay with him, no matter how pathetic he sounded. Sean knew that he was in love with her, knew that she had to feel the same way. He couldn't bear it if he were wrong.

Instead she had taken his hands in hers and said, in a small voice:

"I'm pregnant."

He'd stared and Maeve had ducked her head.

"I…I'm not sure what to do. My father will kill me when he finds out," she said, "Throw me out in the very least."

There was a long pause. The fireflies came out.

"I don't know what to do," she said.

Sean had continued to stare at her. He'd seen her bite her lip as tears began to spill out of her eyes.

"Please say something," she whispered.

He'd sunk to his knees, still holding her hands.

"Marry me."

She blinked, her eyes still awash with tears.

"Sean?" she asked.

"Marry me," Sean said, "I know…I know I'm not much or anything, but I can make you happy: I know I can. You and the baby. We'll be happy together."

Her eyes widened and Sean heard himself bumble on.

"I know this is soon, and that we're young, but I'll make things work," Sean said, "I love you, and I want…I want you to marry me."

He swallowed.

"If you want to."

A moment later Maeve had sunk down into his arms, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Her tears soaked his skin as he held her close, the fireflies swarming around them.

"Oh Sean," she said, "How could I say no?"

His mind jumbled further and Sean staggered forward, blindly flailing out with his hand. It rested against a tree and he leaned his weight on it, taking deep breaths. He felt his nails scrape against the bark of the tree, the dirt engrained into his hands and nails. The photo was tightly clenched in his hand, the paper wrinkling underneath the pressure.

Her name was Terry. Black Tom had let her keep her name. Maeve had wanted to name their daughter Theresa after her mother who had died several years before. He'd thought it was a beautiful name. Moira had agreed. She'd been the one who'd driven the two of them to the sonogram. Sean was still working on getting his license. His skills were still poor though, and he hadn't wanted to practice with Maeve in the car.

Maeve had hummed to herself, collected baby clothes. He loved to watch her prepare, acting as though they were a normal couple who were preparing for their first child. Charles offered him a staff position sooner than he knew he should have, but that was Charles. He wanted to see that things went well for Sean. They all did.

Sean couldn't remember just what had happened after he found out Maeve had died. The last clear memory was Black Tom delivering the news in his cold, callous way. After that Sean blacked out. He got flashes every now and then, his knuckles splitting on his cousin's jaw, the sickening snap of bones.

For days he'd been plagued with images of a life that could have been, a life that almost was. He imagined Maeve holding their baby daughter, laughing and putting her to bed. He never saw his daughter as anything other than a baby, incapable of imagining what she would look like now that her life had been stolen. Sean had always thought that it was a mercy that his imagination had given out.

Now he knew. Now he knew that she had freckles and red hair, her mother's hazel eyes. He knew that she was small and pale. She would probably have braces in a few years, just like he had. His teeth had been hereditary. Maybe she had Maeve's laugh, maybe she had her grace, but more likely she had inherited his clumsiness. Perhaps she was a mutant, perhaps she was a human.

He didn't know, and not knowing was driving him mad. He wanted to run after Black Tom and demand answers, but he couldn't. What was more, his cousin still had her. He'd said that he was going to harm her. Panic welled up within him. He was going to lose her again if he wasn't careful, lose her before he could find her, tell her who he was, who her mother was, that he loved her.

Sean closed his eyes. Black Tom wanted Scott. He had no clue why. It couldn't have been for revenge: the only real fight the two'd had ended up in Scott being repaired by Hank. He supposed that the answer rested with Black Tom's client, the client who he had no idea who he was.

Scott had been with them so long. He remembered Alex carrying Scott into the building, Scott's eyes safely wrapped in gauze that would later be replaced with quartz goggles. He'd been young and Alex had been in his teens, his face grim and determined. From that moment on he had watched over his brother and Sean had watched in awe. Alex had been transforming himself into someone reliable for so long, and finding his brother had completed that transformation.

He had changed everything by bringing Scott, by raising him as an X-man. Alex had looked to the future even while Sean had stayed rooted in the past, too lost in the present to care that it was hurting himself and others. Alex had been the brave one who stayed when Sean had run away from Westchester. He had raised his brother with care, and Scott had become a model X-man in response.

Black Tom was going to kill him. Sean knew that. He didn't know what other personal plans he had for Scott, but it would end in death for his friend's brother. His head began to pound, his face and neck sweat. It felt like someone was pushing both his mind and his body to the absolute limits of what he knew.

If he gave Scott to Black Tom, then Scott would die. If he didn't, then Terry would. Sean didn't doubt Black Tom's sincerity. He staggered until he was leaning against the tree. He couldn't think straight. All that he saw where two roads that ended in death, one in Scott's and the other in Terry's. There was no light in the darkness that surrounded him.

Even as his mind stumbled and screamed, he knew which life was more important to him. He would hate himself forever for letting something happen to Scott, but if Terry was alive then he had no choice. She was a life that he had brought into the world. He had to protect her no matter what the cost. It was his duty.

The thoughts that entered his mind made him feel ill. He doubled over and clutched his stomach, but nothing happened. He wanted all of his thoughts to shut up and leave him alone, but they didn't. Instead they kept on in their mocking way, telling him what he needed to do, cracking his mind further.

"Sean?"

Sean whirled around. Scott stood behind him, looking worried. Everything inside of him seemed to stop.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

Sean's tongue felt like lead, but from somewhere he managed a lie.

"Fine," he said.

"Are you sure?" Scott asked.

"I'm sure," Sean said.

Scott continued to look doubtful, but nodded. He trusted authority, had been taught to look up to the First Class as his intellectual, moral, and military superiors. He trusted his brother's friends, and he would follow any of them anywhere, obey any of their commands. He had all the innocence of a child looking up to his teachers.

Sean felt dismay well up in him at Black Tom's command. He couldn't do it. He couldn't send Scott to his death.

"Magneto said that he picked up some readings that you should take a look at," Scott said, "He said that he might be on to something."

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to remember what it was like to speak, to think about something other than what Black Tom had told him.

"Has he found Havok and Magnetrix?" Sean asked.

"He's not sure," Scott said, "I think that's why he wants you to look at it. He's not familiar with out patterns."

Scott made a face.

"Or so he said."

"Right," Sean said.

He straightened up. Scott continued to eye him.

"Are you sure everything's alright?" he asked.

"It's just fine," Sean snapped.

Scott nodded, backing away slowly.

"Okay, I was just asking," Scott said.

He turned and walked inside. Sean watched Scott go, feeling as though his blood was already staining his hands. His mind was fractured, splitting off into different possibilities, ones that he detested. He felt like he was battling for his soul as well as for the lives of two children, one of whom looked up to him and the other that he'd thought had died years ago.

Feeling numb Sean followed Scott. He would welcome death if he went through with Black Tom's deal. He would take anything other than live with the knowledge of what he'd done, of the devastation that he would leave behind. Alex would never forgive him, hunt him down if it took him the rest of his life even if it broke him to hurt Sean. Sean wouldn't blame him. He would never be able to look at himself again, would hate the very skin that he wore.

How would he be able to meet his daughter knowing that he had sent Scott to his death? If he didn't let him die than he would never be able to meet her though. Sean walked inside, noticing for the first time how cold it was outside. He steadied himself on the wall once, his mind still a screaming jumble.

As he did he saw the photo again, tucked securely in the dark of the glove. Hazel eyes stared into his, young, innocent, and full of pain. Sean managed to focus on the photo. She was hurt and scared. How had he not noticed earlier? He could see that a bruise was forming on her forehead, and there was a hand-shaped bruise on her forearm.

He breathed in sharply. She was hurt. Black Tom didn't just threaten to hurt her, he'd already done it. His mind was still jumbled, but the screaming had dulled. He realized that for seven years she had been without a father. He didn't know what Black Tom had told her about her parents, and he felt his knees buckle under the implications of that. Black Tom had been raising her, and he had been hurting her.

Sean clenched the photo in his hand, crumbling the paper even further and stuffing it into his pocket. He would smooth it out later. Terry was being hurt for the fact that she was his daughter. It had probably gone on for all of her short life, knowing nothing but the pain that his cousin had inflicted on her.

He couldn't leave her like that. He couldn't leave her anywhere near Black Tom for a second more than necessary. His cousin was evil, worse than he had ever imagined. There was something foul in him, something that was like poison. It hadn't always been like this, but the past didn't matter. Now that things were the way that they were he could only try to move forward with what he had.

Sean thought of the image again. Pain bled from Terry, her arms curled in front of her as if she was trying to protect herself. He needed to take that pained look out of her eyes, replace it with something more suited to her innocent features. His mind twirled and tumbled, telling him that no price was too much to do that.

Sean looked up at Scott as he walked in front of him, oblivious to his struggle. He knew what he had to do now.


	20. Chapter 20

February 21, 1974

Lorna felt her heart pound. Black Tom was mere feet away from her, dragging Terry. She saw that the little girl was terrified, that she was sporting a new bruise on her cheek. Lorna felt bile rise up in her throat, her hands clenched together into fists. Her eyes were seeing red, and her teeth ground together.

Above her she could see Havok making motions to her. She ignored him, her eyes fixed on Black Tom. She didn't know when she was going to get this opportunity again. Chances were that it would pass her by. Black Tom would be able to continue on with whatever he was doing, basking in Azazel's death, and hurting Terry.

She glanced up at Havok, who was making slashing motions at her. She wanted to argue with him, but he was too far away. He didn't understand. Terry didn't have anyone in the world, and Lorna had already failed to protect her, just like she had failed to help Azazel. She couldn't, wouldn't, fail her again.

Lorna wondered if he saw her intent in her eyes. His motions became grander and more frantic. Part of her wanted to brush him off. After everything that he had spouted to her earlier she knew that, while he had some noble ideas, he wasn't perfect. He didn't know anything about strategy.

Her brain pulled her up short, almost as though it recognized how ludicrous that sentence was. Hadn't she asked him to come with her based solely on the fact that he could plot a strategy, that despite being part of the X-men he was a strong fighter? Hadn't she asked him not to underestimate her, to give her credit for her skills? She couldn't just dismiss him, if only so she could continue working with him.

Reluctantly she looked where he was pointing. Everywhere she saw soldiers. They were surrounded. Lorna quickly realized that, if she rushed out as she wanted to, they would all immediately fire on her. She shifted in her position, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. Even if Havok gave her covering fire it was unlikely that she would be able to catch up with Black Tom and Terry. She'd probably be dead before she reached them.

She shrank back into the shadows, biting her lip. She looked over at where the pale man and Black Tom were. Black Tom was still grasping Terry's arm, although it looked like Terry was trying to make herself as small as possible, hoping to be forgotten in the commotion. Lorna's heart broke for her.

Biting her lip she nodded at Havok but motioned that she had to get closer. As much as she wanted to deny it, he was right. She wouldn't do Terry or herself any favors by rushing in without a plan or guidance. She swallowed and began inching along the boxes, putting her in range to hear Black Tom's conversation.

"Is everything loaded up?" he asked.

"Just about," the pale man said.

He looked down at Terry and rolled his shoulder.

"You know, she'll keep better if you hit her less."

The words were delivered in a dry, careless tone. Lorna ground her teeth together as Terry shrank away.

"She's none of your concern," Black Tom snapped.

The pale man shrugged and looked back at his equipment. He tapped the boxes.

"I hope that you have told the men to handle this delicately," he said, "I don't want any more broken glassware."

"They'll handle it delicately enough," Black Tom said, "It's not like it's very far."

"It's far enough for my things," the pale man said.

"Damn it, I wish you'd stop being so picky. You want that sample, don't you?" Black Tom said, "We need to move before they come back. Otherwise you're going to be dead, and then you'll never finish."

"Oh, I don't know about that," the pale man said, "There are always possibilities for me if that happens."

He rested his hand thoughtfully on one of the crates. Black Tom narrowed his eyes.

"I could have had the elder before now," he said, "We could have been done. But you specifically demanded-"

"I know, I know," the pale man sighed, "Come, I'm not a fool. I do want speed, but I also want quality. Besides, he is more…peculiar than the other one."

"Whatever. I'm not interested in your theories," Black Tom said.

The pale man shrugged again. Lorna wondered if he was listening to Black Tom anymore. She doubted it.

"Now let's get moving," Black Tom said.

He limped forwards, dragging Terry along with him. Terry whimpered slightly and Lorna closed her eyes. She couldn't believe that she was just leaving her with that monster. Lorna didn't have much of a choice, but she felt that she should have that choice. Her father and Azazel had taught her that there was always a choice, but this choice was simply stay put and live to fight again or rush forward and die. Not a good selection.

She pressed herself against the wall and began inching towards where she had dropped down from. She made the rest of her trip up in a matter of seconds, forcing herself to concentrate so that she didn't make any noise. Lorna hadn't thrown away what could have been a good opportunity just so she could get caught on her way back to safety.

With a final pull she hoisted herself up next to Havok.

"So, Black Tom is here," Havok said.

"It appears so," Lorna said.

He shifted his weight.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, I couldn't see very well from this distance," he said, "but is that a child with him?"

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to tell him to shut up, but she couldn't find it in her. He didn't know.

"Yes," she said.

Her tone came out short and sharp. Havok looked over at her, his expression puzzled.

"Do you know her?" he asked.

"Yes," Lorna said, wishing he would stop talking.

Havok looked back down at the scene below.

"Is what happened with Azazel the only reason you want to kill him?" he asked.

His words were measured, almost as though he were trying to choose them carefully. Lorna clenched and unclenched her fist.

"He brought her in with him years ago," Lorna said, "He's cruel to her. She's very young."

Havok set his face.

"He gets worse by the hour," he said.

He shook his head.

"She his daughter?"

"No," Lorna said.

She glared down at Black Tom as he continued to pull Terry across the room. Her eyes glanced back at the pale man. Havok looked puzzled by her statement, but she didn't have time to talk about the cruelties of life that had left Terry with only Black Tom for a guardian.

"But I think that we have another problem on our hands," Lorna said, "The pale man keeps talking about tests and moving his equipment."

Havok narrowed his eyes.

"So now we have a scientist who likes to experiment on mutants," he said, "Perfect."

"They never said that," Lorna said, aghast.

"But that's always what it is when a scientist gets involved," Havok said, "Trust me, I know."

"But he's a mutant!" Lorna said, "Him and Black Tom, they're both mutants!"

"Keep your voice down," Havok said.

Lorna lapsed into silence, biting her tongue and feeling as if she were going insane.

"Trixie, I've been doing this for years," Havok said when he was satisfied no one had heard, "I've seen all sorts in this job. I've seen humans experiment on mutants, and I've seen mutants experiment on mutants. I've seen mutants kill their own kind and humans because the mood has come on them, not because they see one as better than the other. And I've seen humans do the exact same things."

Lorna stared at him. His voice became slightly bitter, his breath shallow.

"I've seen a million little atrocities committed by people and mutants who consider themselves good people," he said, "Any little difference can send people spiraling into a dark cycle of hatred."

His words were making her uncomfortable. They weren't the kinds of things that a child of the X-men should say. Lorna knew that he had been shocked by how she saw the world, but she hadn't expected to find anything truly new about him. He was the field leader of the X-men, captained by a wise man who was too gentle to save his people.

Lorna wondered if the eleven years of struggling had begun to hurt the man next to her deeper than she knew. She knew that they had hurt everyone in the Brotherhood, but it had made them stronger and encouraged them to fight. She wondered if it was encouraging Havok to fight as well, only in a different direction.

She wished she could say something to show that she understood. Lorna knew that her own life might be like that in a few years.

"A few bad mutants don't represent us all," Lorna said.

He snorted.

"And a few bad humans don't represent them all either," Havok said, "Has that occurred to you?"

She narrowed her eyes. She had to tell herself that he hadn't been there, that despite everything that he had seen, he hadn't seen what she had. Havok couldn't have seen anything like that. If he had, then he would have run into the arms of the Brotherhood instead of staying with the X-men.

"I've seen too much evil to believe that," Lorna said.

"And I've found too much good," Havok said, "As for evil, it seems that humans and mutants are evenly matched in that regard. People do terrible things for no reason at all sometimes."

He paused.

"Your father knows this," he said.

Lorna resisted the urge to scream at him. The first night she had seen her father, the night when he had picked her up and carried her to safety, she had seen the numbers tattooed on his wrist. Lorna had looked at them blearily, her head pounding and not comprehending what they meant. She only found out later when she was much older.

Still, Havok had a point. Humans had experimented and tortured humans from the dawn of time for little differences or just for curiosity. Lorna was getting angry that she had to acknowledge that he was right so much. She wasn't even supposed to talk to him, and yet he was there, his words finding places in her mind and lodging themselves there.

"It's not a good thing to acknowledge, and it's an even worse thing to think about, but it happens," Havok said.

"The world can be a cruel place," she muttered.

"Quoting your father?" Havok asked.

Lorna gave a non-committal shrug.

"Sometimes that bastard is right," Havok said.

She blinked at him, but he didn't say anything. He pointed below them.

"It looks like they're moving out," he said.

Lorna looked. True to his words the trucks were starting to rumble past.

"We have to follow," she said.

"Yeah, no doubt about that," Havok said, "But I came in here underneath a truck. I wouldn't recommend it."

"They said it was close," Lorna said.

"Yeah, but unless this location is a grand total of fifty feet away from here, then I don't think it'll work," Havok said, "Besides, the undercarriage is made of plastic. They were prepped for Brotherhood involvement. So we can't use that."

He looked around them. She saw his eyes settle on a group of soldiers who had changed their outfits into regular street clothes. They were riding motorcycles. Lorna vaguely wondered if they were going to form some sort of peripheral guard, blend in with the populace. It seemed like it was a logical idea.

"Well well," Havok said.

"What?" Lorna said.

Havok grinned.

"I just think that I found our ticket out of here," he said.

He pushed himself away from the rafters and gestured to her.

"Come on," he said, "We have to move fast. How good are your driving skills?"

She hesitated.

"I can't do a truck," she said, her voice uncertain.

"Alright, probably means you can't do this," Havok said, "No problem. We'll just have to share."

"Share what?" Lorna said.

Havok just continued grinning.


	21. Chapter 21

February 22, 1974

"I haven't heard from them in a while."

Carly looked up from the book she was reading.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Everyone at Westchester," Hank said, "Nothing."

He sat down next to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

"They've been keeping in pretty close contact after, well, you know," he said.

Carly put a hand on his shoulder. Hank looked worried, and she hated seeing her husband like that.

"Maybe they figure everything's alright now," she said.

Hank shook his head.

"No, we usually keep tabs after an incident like this for at least a month and a half," Hank said, "And this incident was rather major."

"Little paranoid, aren't we?" she joked.

Hank looked at her, his face serious. One of his hands rested over where her stomach had started to swell.

"Not really," he said.

The past few weeks had been slow since the X-men had rescued her from the Friends of Humanity, but Carly knew that Hank was still worried for her, her and the child she carried, and the way the world was changing around it all. Their injuries were still healing, and it was all still fresh in Hank's mind.

Carly sighed and cupped his face with her hands.

"I'm fine," she said, "We're both fine Hank."

"I know, I know," Hank said.

He smiled weakly.

"I'm something of a worrywart, aren't I?" he asked.

"Yes, you are," Carly said.

She leaned in and kissed him.

"But you're mine, and that makes all the difference," she said.

He smiled at her and clasped her hand.

"I still think I should call them," Hank said, "Just to be safe."

Carly laughed.

"If you feel the need," she said, "I'm sure everything's fine though."

"You're probably right," he said, getting up, "But, as I said, I do need to know about these things. With everything that's been happening-"

"Yes yes," Carly said, "But don't blame me when Moira chews you out about it."

Hank smiled and walked into the next room. Carly settled back and looked outside the window. It was snowing lightly in Jasper, and she was glad to be back. In all likelihood she knew that they wouldn't be able to stay there for too much longer: Hank was already making plans about what to do with his blossoming political career. It would take them far away from Rhode Island, away from the little town that they had come to know.

She felt tired just thinking about it, but she figured that was the baby. She knew that a lot of work was coming their way, new struggles that might make what they had already gone through look inconsequential. Still, Carly could look to the future and still enjoy the calm before the storm.

She looked away from the window and turned back to _Othello_. Ever since Hank had agreed to read more Shakespearean comedies she'd tried to read more of the tragedies. It was depressing stuff, but that didn't mean that it wasn't well-written. Desdemona seemed too foolish for words though, and Othello was too quick to jump to conclusions.

Just as she flipped the page she heard a clatter in the kitchen.

"What happened?" Hank demanded.

Carly slid her bookmark into place before putting the book down. The calm hadn't lasted long.

* * *

Scott wasn't sure why Sean kept looking at him as though he'd never seen him before. He wanted to say something, to ask why. Part of him was sure that it was because he had expressed too much concern for his brother and Sean was considering pulling him from the team. Scott wanted to confront him, to tell him that he would be fine, that he had trained for this, that he would be able to make it, but he knew that would just cause more trouble.

At the same time he got the strangest feeling that the look that Sean was giving him had absolutely nothing to do with any of that. There was something calculating in it, true enough, but there was guilt there too. Scott didn't know what to make of it. No one had really looked at him with guilt, except for the few snatches he caught in his brother's eyes from time to time.

They walked into what Scott supposed had once been the living room. The rest of the X-men had heard the call and were assembled around the table. Clarice wasn't there, but he knew that she was scheduled to go on patrol along with Riptide on the other side of the building. He felt good about having her out there. She was capable of taking Riptide on or, if bad came to worse, she could teleport to them for help.

He didn't trust the Brotherhood, even if they were just worried about their own. He would never trust them, and he had every reason for that. Mystique seemed upset about Azazel's death, at least that's what he thought was happening, but he had a hard time caring. He'd seen Clarice nearly get disembowled enough not to care if the red teleporter had met his end. The only reason they were involved at all was because his brother had managed to get mixed up in their mess, and he could very well die because of it.

As Scott and Sean took their seats Magneto came in. Scott kept his gaze level, his arms folded across his chest. He'd been taught to never take on the man in front of him on his own, taught to use back-up and to approach with caution even when he had back-up. It was a lesson that he was going to be hard pressed to forget, and he didn't intend to do so any time soon.

Emma Frost walked in behind him, carrying what looked like a small phone. Scott looked at Sean to see if he recognized what it was, but Sean still had a strange, glassy-eyed look to him. Scott was becoming very worried about his brother's friend, about the man who had helped him move into Westchester once upon a time, but now was not the time to voice those concerns.

"We picked up a few peculiar transmissions about an hour ago that bore Black Tom's signature," Emma Frost said, "After that we did a quick job of triangulating his position, and we believe that we might be able to have a satellite view of where he is."

"And why didn't you tell us about this an hour ago?" Scott said.

His voice was irritated. Emma rolled her eyes and Scott narrowed his. Sean's hand came up and, although his eyes were still glassy, his voice carried the tones of authority in it.

"Cyclops, let it go," Sean said.

Scott pulled his arms closer to his chest, irritated.

"Can I continue?" Emma asked, her voice venomous.

"Emma, there's no need for that either," Magneto said.

She rolled her eyes. Sean seemed to sit up straighter, the glassy look beginning to disappear from his eyes.

"So you think you can give us a visual look?" he asked.

Emma nodded. She pressed a button on the device in her hand and a screen unfolded in the middle of the table. The screen folded up and Scott had to resist the urge to start back. Warren had already jumped back, and he heard some snickers from Angel. Scott felt as though his head were about to explode, but he knew that he had to keep his thoughts on the frustrating team-up they'd been forced to do to himself.

At first the screen showed static, but a moment later Scott saw a visual of a factory where several trucks were pouring out. He frowned, and he could see that the Brotherhood members were looking uncomfortable too.

"He certainly has a lot of gear," Sean said.

He looked up at Magneto.

"Sure there's nothing you're not telling us?" he asked.

Magneto folded his arms.

"I know that your cousin has a rather hefty cash reserve-"

"No."

Scott looked over at Sean. His eyes were hard and his face twisted into something dark.

"Oh?" Magneto asked, "Do they not know that you're related?"

Sean laughed, and the sound was a bitter one. Scott felt the old worry rise up again.

"They know that we share blood," Sean said.

It was true. Alex had briefed them on the members of the Brotherhood as they had understood them at the beginning of their training. As such they had learned that Black Tom was Sean's cousin. There had been a few murmurs amongst them, but it was obvious that Sean wanted nothing to do with his cousin. Scott knew that the reason for that was what had happened with Sean's wife, but Scott had been very young when that had happened and the rest of the X-men hadn't come to Westchester yet.

"But he is not my cousin," Sean said.

"And I thought you were all about family at Westchester," Magneto said.

"We are," Sean said, "And that man is not family."

There was a tense silence. Scott wondered who was going to go after who first. He looked at Sean, waiting for some sort of signal that he was going to snap, or that he had seen the intention to attack in Magneto's face. They would have to support him, and it didn't matter if they were outnumbered or not.

Instead he saw Sean relax and swallow.

"So I would ask you to simply refer to him as Black Tom, if you don't mind," Sean said.

Scott blinked. Magneto looked at Sean, his expression strange.

"I don't,"he said.

"Good," Sean said.

He nodded towards the screen.

"Now, Scott said that you said something about us trying to find patterns," he said.

Magneto nodded, still looking strangely at Sean.

"We want to know if you know anything about his methods that we don't," he said, "Given that, I want to know if you have any strategy that we might be able to use beyond tracking these."

Sean leaned in. Scott silently willed him not to talk to Magneto about their methods. He had to see that it was a bad idea, that they couldn't let Magneto in on any of their plans. Letting him sit in the front of the Blackbird had been bad enough, but he didn't want them knowing anything about their battle strategy. Even having Emma in the room was making him uncomfortable. He couldn't trust the people in front of him.

Yet Sean continued to look at the scene, cocking his head back and forth. He wondered what he was seeing, why the glassy-look had disappeared completely from his eyes. It was like he was actually surveying a battle grid, surrounded by people he could trust. Scott wanted to shake him and remind him that they couldn't trust the people they were with for even a minute, yet he held his tongue. It wasn't his place to correct Sean, not in front of the Brotherhood. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

"It seems to me that a simple flanking strategy would be in order," Sean said, "But I get the feeling that maybe things aren't as simple as all of that. We'd need to take a closer look."

Magneto nodded. Sean cocked his head.

"However," he said, his voice ponderous, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind zooming up on the rear guard, if possible."

Magneto looked at Emma, who pressed another button. A distorted image grew, but it provided a better view of some of what Scott assumed were Black Tom's goons. However, as he looked closer there seemed to be something familiar about the way one of the motorcycle guards was driving. He looked over at Sean, who had the ghost of a grin on his face.

"It looks like we have someone on the inside," Sean said.

"What?" Magneto asked.

Sean pointed at the screen.

"See that rider in the back? That's Havok," Sean said, "I'd recognize the way he rides anywhere."

Sean's grin solidified a little more. Even Scott had to stifle a chuckle: he knew where this was going.

"And I'm guessing, since someone else is on that particular bike with him, that he's riding with Magnetrix," Sean said.


	22. Chapter 22

February 22, 1974

Lorna held onto Havok's waist, forcing herself to keep her eyes open. She didn't like riding in the back, and she didn't like being so dependent on the man in front of her, on anyone. Lorna had happily consigned all of her travelling arrangements to Azazel once upon a time, throwing herself off of buildings in the secure knowledge that he would catch her and teleport her away from danger. That was Azazel though, a man who had helped raise her, the first and, up until recently, the only person she'd been on a mission with.

It was disturbing her then, how much the trust was trying to creep in with Havok. She couldn't afford to begin to trust the man in front of her, no matter how easy it was. Lorna had always been taught by her father that real trust was formed through battle, and it was starting to worry her how much she was fighting next to the field leader of the X-men.

The thoughts made her grit her teeth, but there were other worrying thoughts that floated around. Terry was somewhere in there in the clutches of a man who had murdered Azazel and was planning something terrible. Perhaps that terrible plan pertained to Terry: it would certainly explain why he had kept her with him so long when he hated her.

Involuntarily she curled her fingers in. She didn't realize that the person she was curling her fingers in on was Havok until it was too late. Havok looked over his shoulder at her as they sped across the road, just out of sight of the other members of Black Tom's motorcade.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Eyes on the road," she hissed.

He turned his head to face the oncoming road.

"Never road a motorcycle before?" he asked.

His voice was slightly mocking.

"My father says they're death traps," she said.

The words came out of her mouth before she could fully understand what it was she said. She could feel Havok begin to shake with laughter.

"Shut up," she said.

"Let me get this straight, and correct me if I'm wrong," Havok gasped, "Your father, who is probably one of the most dangerous men in the world, if not the most dangerous, thinks that motorcycles are death traps?"

Lorna rolled her eyes as Havok continued to shake with laughter.

"And…and he lets you go out and fight trained soldiers," Havok laughed.

"Shut up!" Lorna said.

Laughter was starting to creep into her voice too. She wanted to put her hand in front of her mouth to stifle it, but she was too afraid to let go.

"Ah, you know it's funny," Havok said, "But if it makes you feel better, I got an earful from the professor when I started driving these around. Didn't matter that I'd been doing it since I was thirteen, just went ahead and freaked out about it."

She shook her head. Ahead of them she could see the distant sight of the rest of the trucks rising over the hills.

"Sounds like him," she said.

"What do you know about it?" Havok asked.

His voice had a trace of hostility, but it wasn't terrible. It was certainly much less than it had been, or that she would imagine it to be. Lorna was surprised, once again she hadn't quite realized that she was speaking. She had to get her head in the game, had to be less scared of their mode of travel, had to worry a little less about Terry even if she deserved an army of people looking for her.

Even though she knew that he couldn't see her, she shrugged, trying to be casual.

"My father speaks highly of him," she said.

"But you think that we're all naïve," Havok said.

"Yes," Lorna said.

Havok shook his head.

"You all are a mystery," he said.

"As are you," Lorna said.

"Meaning?"

"Well, if you acknowledge that there are a lot of really, really terrible humans out there, then why don't you actually fight them?" Lorna asked.

Havok sighed.

"I believe that bad examples are just that: bad examples," he said, "And you're right, it doesn't make me happy that all of these things happen. But I'm not going to be a member of the Brotherhood. Never."

"Why's that?" Lorna said.

"Why should I tell you?" Havok said, "More specifically, why do you care?"

"I don't understand," Lorna said, uncertain.

"Of course you don't," Havok said.

He turned the handlebars of the motorcycle slightly.

"Look, I'm trying to think like you right now," he said, "And that's not easy, but I think that I have a pretty good idea."

Lorna felt like she should draw back from him, but her feet had to stay firmly in the footholds.

"The way I think you see things is that you're in the right and I'm naïve," Havok said, "Me and the rest of the X-men. So you have your explanation for why I'm in the wrong, why I don't strike back like you do. So, what else do you need?"

Lorna bit her lip, considering his words. He was, more or less, right. At the same time, she had questions of her own.

"But you think that we're all evil and irrational," Lorna said, "So I don't understand why you're not only working with me, but you're taking time to talk to me. Social talk. You wouldn't want to be touched by evil, right?"

Havok fell into silence. For a moment they drove on, neither of them talking. Then Havok sighed again.

"I'm not naïve, and I'm not stupid," he said.

Lorna paused.

"What?"

"I'm not naïve and I'm not stupid damn it," Havok said.

"I never called you stupid," she said.

"Yes, you did. You keep implying it by saying we're all naïve," Havok said, "Well, you're right about how I see things. You are all evil. I know that you think you're doing the right thing though, so you're not insane or irrational. You've just made a really, really terrible conclusion that's easy to make. You're only evil because you're following through with it."

Inwardly Lorna was aghast. She couldn't believe that her family was being described in such terms by anyone, even if they were a member of the X-men. She couldn't imagine Angel, the woman who had braided her hair and brought back dresses for her when she was little, being evil. Janos and Emma, while stand-offish and easy to anger, weren't evil. Mystique had always disliked Lorna, but she had her reasons and had never been truly cruel to her. Azazel had always been good to her, always wanted to help her out.

The Bayville unit, as she thought of them, were a little violent, but she didn't think of them as being evil. Toad, Blob, Senyaka, and the rest were rough around the edges, but they were her contemporaries, contemporaries who hadn't grown up with loving parents like she had. Of course they were angry.

Her father, the man who had brought them all together, was by no means evil. He had been good to her, saved her when the rest of the world had turned its back on her. He had refused to let her be hurt, had taken her in when a child really hadn't belonged in the Brotherhood. Havok didn't understand them, didn't understand them at all if he thought they were evil.

"You're different though," Havok said.

Lorna took a sharp breath.

"It's not easy to admit that," Havok said, "You've been raised by them, but you don't fight like them, and you sure don't think like the rest."

"I'm just like-"

"You're not," Havok said, "I've known them longer than you have."

"And I know them better," Lorna shot back.

Havok gripped the bike's handles tighter, his gloves making a slight noise as he did so.

"Look," he said, "when the chips are down, they're going to show their true colors, and I know those colors better than you."

"No, you don't," Lorna said.

She could tell that Havok was getting ready to answer, but he suddenly swerved the bike to the side of the road. Lorna nearly fell off, but was forced to grip his waist tighter. She wanted to shout at him, right until she saw that three of the motorcycle riders had turned back and were heading for them.

"Any metal in those bikes?" he asked.

Lorna closed her eyes, wishing for some sort of magnetic twinge from the motorcycles. Nothing.

"No," Lorna said.

"Of course not," Havok said.

She watched as the rest of the bikes turned around and came for them. She could feel Azazel's knives digging into her vest. Lorna didn't want to let go of Havok's waist and lose her position and she cursed her weakness. She closed her eyes, trying to focus, trying to force the weakness out.

Lorna opened her eyes and drew one of the knives out of her vest.

"Move over a little," Lorna said.

Havok shifted his weight. Lorna threw the knife out. The distance was too great for her tossing skills, or at least it would be normally. Instead she guided the knife as far as she could, embedding it deeply into the wheel of the first motorcycle. As soon as she punctured the tire she sent it to another one, sending two more knives out to follow them. Tire after tire blew, sending the riders crashing.

As soon as the tires were punctured she summoned the knives back to her. Havok continued to shift his weight so that they dodged the different explosions and crashes. One of her hands was still firmly grasped around his waist as he turned, but it wasn't as bad as Lorna had thought it would be. It almost felt like flying, something that she had never been able to do, unlike her father.

"Nice job," Havok said, "But it looks like they know we're here."

"Duly noted," Lorna said.

She looked ahead at the tail lights of the truck.

"Drive me to the truck," Lorna said.

"Seriously?" Havok asked.

"Yeah," Lorna said, "I was trained to climb onto shifting objects."

She tilted her head up.

"Were you?" she asked.

Havok laughed.

"You really are different," he said, "You're crazy, but it's not bad."

He looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"I'll back you up," Havok said.

Lorna didn't respond: she wasn't sure how to any more. Havok stepped on the gas pedal and drove up next to the truck. He shifted his weight so that they were close. Lorna looked around for handholds. There weren't any, but it wasn't a problem. Azazel had taught her how to make her own handholds.

She drew two of her knives and jumped off of the bike. The pull of the metal allowed her to embed her knives into the side of the truck. Her hands pulled onto the hilts of the knives, her feet dangling into the air. When she was younger she had cursed the amount of pushups Azazel and her father had forced her to do. Now she blessed her upper body strength as she pulled herself up, embedding the knives into the wall again and again as she moved towards the front of the cab.

The front door opened. A man leaned out and pointed a gun at her. Lorna began to pull herself up to dodge, but a bolt of red light hit him in the face, sending him sprawling out of the truck. The back wheels of the truck ran over him and Lorna began pulling herself towards the cab. It felt good to know that she had back-up.

Her hood came down and her hair whipped around her. It made seeing difficult, but it had done that in the past. Now she was starting to wonder if perhaps Havok was right about it. The thought of him in the right after what he had just said made her angrier, even if he had just saved her life. He was an idiot, and although she could trust him for the moment, it was all temporary.

She stabbed her knife into the side of the truck again, still trying to find some purchase for her feet. Lorna's muscles screamed as another soldier tried to take aim at her. Lorna readied her knife, but he was taken down by another bolt of light. Havok had meant what he said when he had declared himself her back up. He was her back-up just like any other member of the Brotherhood. It was an uncomfortable thought.

She swung herself into the front of the cab, pulling herself into the cab and kicking the driver out the opposite door. Lorna pulled herself into the driver's seat and grabbed the wheel. She pulled the door closed and tried to get the truck back onto the road. Lorna didn't know just what she was driving, what was in the boxes in the back, and she wasn't completely sure what she was doing. All she knew was that she was closer to catching Black Tom.

It felt good.

.


	23. Chapter 23

February 22, 1974

"Charles."

Charles looked up and saw Moira standing in the door to his office. As always David was her shadow, but because of the hour he was fast asleep. His son's head was tucked into the crook of her neck, his mouth open slightly. It would have been a perfect image, except her expression was worried.

"Did something happen with the team?" he asked.

"Not exactly," Moira said.

She shifted David.

"Hank called," she said.

Charles winced.

"He's coming here, isn't he?" Charles asked.

"Actually Carly is coming here," Moira said, "Hank is heading down to South Dakota."

"What?" Charles said.

Moira nodded. Charles gritted his teeth.

"Do they even know he's coming?" he asked, feeling aghast.

"Ororo picked up," Moira said, "She said that Magneto and the team were going over some surveillance. She said she'd tell them once it was over."

"There's that at least," Charles said.

He rubbed his temples. Moira shifted David again.

"Are you alright Charles?" she asked.

Her voice was gentle, but it didn't make it better.

"No," he said.

His teeth were beginning to grind in on each other.

"He thinks that he should try to even the odds with the Brotherhood," Moira said.

"And you agree with that?" Charles asked.

"Of course not," Moira said, frowning, "It's just going to make Magneto antsier."

"Then why didn't you try to stop him?" he asked.

Her frown increased and her look darkened.

"I did try. I told him it wasn't necessary, but I think that what happened with Carly made him more mindful of the struggles the X-men are going through," Moira said.

"You should have tried harder," Charles said.

Moira pursed her lips.

"Alright," she said, "Next time you can do it."

Charles snorted and pushed away from his desk. As he did he made a loud scraping noise. David woke up and started to whimper. Moira immediately started to smooth his hair over and guilt pressed down on him. When Moira raised her eyes they were angry and Charles bowed his head.

"I'm sorry Moira," he said.

"I know," she said quietly.

Moira closed her eyes and shifted David.

"Somehow that makes it worse," she said.

Without another word she walked out of the office, leaving Charles alone.

* * *

Alex shifted his weight on the motorcycle and drove up to the passenger's side of the truck. Magnetrix glanced at him.

"What next?" he shouted.

Magnetrix blinked, looking uncertain. Her eyes turned to the road ahead of her.

"We go after Black Tom of course," she said.

"Yeah, I got that bit," Alex said, "And how does the truck help? Do you even know how to drive that thing?"

She bit her lip.

"Sort of," she said.

"Sort of?" Alex demanded.

She shot him a dirty look.

"I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not sure you do!"

"Are you going to help or not?" Magnetrix said.

He grunted in frustration. Leave it to the Brotherhood to complicate things.

"Okay, what's your grand master plan oh wise one?" he asked.

Magnetrix narrowed her eyes.

"I'm going to drive this truck into the back of the next one, hopefully hurtling it off road," she said, "Then we won't have to deal with it. Then we get onto the next one, where Black Tom is, and beat the shit out of him."

Alex looked ahead at the trucks.

"That's not bad," he said.

"I told you," Magnetrix said, "I need you to pick me up when I get enough speed, okay?"

"Got it," Alex said, "But the truck is likely to go to the right when you hit into it. You're going to need to jump out on the passenger's side."

She looked doubtfully at him.

"I'll catch you," he said.

"I know," Magnetrix said.

She pressed on the gas pedal and the truck rocketed forwards. Alex pushed the bike forwards so it could keep level with her. Her driving was shaky at best though. She was obviously unused to driving a big rig. Alex himself wasn't used to vehicles like that, but he hadn't killed anyone when he took them out of the factory either.

Magnetrix's driving was shaky. He wondered how she did on normal cars. Scott had been fifteen when Alex had let him drive his first motorcycle by himself. Alex had considered it a skill that he might need, and his love for bikes had rubbed off on his younger brother. He couldn't blame him for sharing his passion.

He also made sure that all of the X-men knew how to drive, although he only really trusted Jean with the Blackbird. The rest didn't seem to understand that they would be crashing a plane, which could end with more complications than a mere car accident. He wondered if the Brotherhood had the same program and if not, why not.

Still, for her first time driving a truck, she was doing well. He watched as the speed began to climb, the distance between them and the next truck closing.

"Now, jump now!" Alex yelled.

Magnetrix didn't need to be told twice. She rocketed out of the passenger's side, kicking off from the door frame. Alex angled his bike so she would land on it. He let go of the handlebars briefly to steady her. He could feel her hands digging into his shoulders. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, but he could see the impending collision.

He pushed the bike as fast as it could go. They managed to get just in front of the cab for the next truck up before the two collided. The sound of shrieking tires and shouts filled the air as the trucks went off road. He heard crashes and managed a grim smile. They had destroyed at least some of Black Tom's equipment.

The last truck loomed up in front of them. He looked behind him at Magnetrix.

"Ready for this?" he asked.

"I'm dying for it," she said.

Alex laughed.

"Remind me to get on your bad side as little as possible in the future," he said.

"I make no promises," Magnetrix said.

Her voice was light, almost like she was trying to avoid laughing.

"Same as the first one?" he asked.

"Yes," Magnetrix said, "I'll pull you up when I get there. Got it?"

"Got it," Alex said.

He grinned as they drove next to the truck. Magnetrix jumped out, her knives embedding into the side of the truck. She was climbing towards the cab. He assumed that Black Tom would be there, wondering where the rest of his caravan was. He might have noticed that something was wrong, but Alex was fairly confident that they had at least a little surprise on their side.

It was why shock stabbed his mind when Black Tom flung open the door to the cab and fired a blast of heat at Magnetrix. She pressed herself against the truck, managing to dodge it narrowly. Alex held out his hand, gathering as much light into it as he could, and fired it at Black Tom.

Black Tom saw and fired a blast of heat. The two forces met in the middle. Alex's light continued to travel, but it hit the doorframe. Alex swore as Black Tom turned his attention to Alex. His eyes narrowed before a strange, almost manic smile twisted his lips. Alex couldn't help grimacing.

"Both of you then," he said, "How charming."

One of Magnetrix's knives went out from her hand. It cut a gash into Black Tom's cheek. If he hadn't moved his head than Alex had the feeling that the knife would have gone straight through his eye. He definitely would have to watch Magnetrix if she appeared on future missions with the Brotherhood.

Black Tom grabbed the knife out of the air and flung it back towards Magnetrix. She stopped it in mid-air, her eyes angry. It was obvious that she was going to try again, but the truck began making crazy swerves back and forth. Magnetrix clung to the side of the truck. Alex had to continue to maneuver the motorcycle so he wasn't run over.

"Now what on earth are the two of you doing together?" Black Tom laughed.

The truck continued to swerve. Alex went through his rather impressive stock of expletives in his head as he tried to keep himself from going off road while keeping an eye on Magnetrix. Black Tom was casually firing bolts of heat at her and she was having a hard time dodging. It was all Alex could do to take down a few of them with his own powers.

"Is this about your mentor?" Black Tom laughed.

Alex saw Magnetrix grit her teeth.

"Among other things," she spat.

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm afraid I can't let you have Terry," he said, "She should be with family."

Magnetrix's eyes began to glow, the green coming out deep and terrifying.

"You're not her family!"

The knives she held in her hands catapulted her towards Black Tom. Both of her knives embedded themselves in his shoulders, her feet just waiting to gain purchase. Until then all of her weight pulled down on the knives in Black Tom. Black Tom screamed and Magnetrix used her free hand to hit him across the face. Alex stared at Magnetrix, her teeth gritted as she manipulated the metal that was still in Black Tom's shoulder.

The truck swerved again. Magnetrix became unbalanced, and Black Tom noticed. He kicked her in the chest, sending her off the truck. Alex swerved the bike, managing to catch her before she hit the pavement. The catch threw him off balance though, and a second later Black Tom sent out a bolt of heat, puncturing the bike's front tire sending them spiraling off road.

* * *

Sean watched Magnetrix kick open the door to the truck, watched the ensuing fight. There was no audio, but they seemed to be doing well. Hope rose in him. Perhaps they would take down Black Tom, would find Terry. They would have to bring her to them, and then he knew that Alex and the X-men would help him claim her. If she'd been living with the Brotherhood than they might want her, but they wouldn't get her. Perhaps he wouldn't have to make the decision that was consuming him piece by piece.

However, part of him already knew what was going to happen. Maybe they would catch Black Tom, maybe they wouldn't. If Terry was his bargaining chip then he would be keeping her under heavy guard. He wouldn't leave something like that up to chance. Black Tom was no fool, as much as Sean wished that he was.

Besides, he had already made the decision. It was a corrosive feeling, one that made him feel as though something was wrong with him. It had taken a clear mind to decide what to do, and it scared him much more than Black Tom could ever hope to do. It also made him hate the man who had once been his cousin, who had given him a choice that put his very soul and sanity in peril, the two things he had been struggling for.

He had told everyone at Westchester that he wasn't running away anymore, and part of that meant that he couldn't run away from the knowledge that he had already decided what to do. That decision, whether or not he actually went through with it, was what mattered. The very thought was what condemned him, and he couldn't run from that.

So Sean watched what happened to Alex and Magnetrix with something that could only be called stoicism. Scott might worry, but Alex was too strong to let something like that fall kill him. He had survived almost being torn to ribbons, having Emma invade his mind, being shot, and standing directly in the line of fire when a casement exploded. Sean had watched the numerous scars appear on his friend as Hank stitched him up. He'd even given blood for him on more than one occasion.

He looked over at Magneto. His face was shocked and horrified at the sight of his daughter and Alex tumbling off road. He was worried about her. It was the first time he'd truly seen Magneto looking human in a long time. Sean couldn't help but feel some sympathy for him. Both of their daughters were in peril. At least Magnetrix could fight back though. Terry was too small.

It shamed him, but that thought put things into perspective. It was going to make the task that lay before him easier.


	24. Chapter 24

February 22, 1974

Sean could see Scott tremble next to him, the thought of his brother injured chilling him. He could see anger darken Magneto's face, replacing the humanizing worry that he had seen earlier. Angel was biting her lip and Emma was impassive. Sean took a deep breath, knowing what it was that he had to do and hating himself for it.

"They're fine," he said, "Keep surveiling Black Tom and find out where he is. We'll find them both there once they get back on their feet. I need to go talk to my team."

Magneto's gaze immediately riveted on him.

"We are going to see what happens," he said.

"No, you know that the right thing to do is to keep tracking him," Sean said, "They'll pick themselves up and follow."

"Banshee-" Scott began.

"Cyclops, I would appreciate it if you were silent for the moment," Sean snapped, "I will talk to you all in a minute."

He looked at Magneto.

"I know what you're feeling right now," Sean said, "And don't think that we won't talk about it. But we both know that they aren't really injured. I have faith that Havok will be able to pick himself up from that. Do you have the same faith for Magnetrix?"

Magneto's eyes narrowed.

"What makes you so sure?" he said.

"Because I know Havok," Sean said.

"His brother is worried," Magneto said.

Scott bent his lip in a snarl, but Sean put his hand on his shoulder.

"They're family, which is why I understand your worry," Sean said, "I care very, very much about Havok. So believe me when I say that it's difficult for me to acknowledge that we don't have the time or the resources to confirm what happened."

He tilted his head up.

"And take it as testimony that it's the right thing to do."

Magneto eyed him. Sean stared back as evenly as he could, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"The years have changed you," Magneto said.

"A lot happens in ten years," Sean said.

Magneto nodded, although Sean knew that he had no clue just how much had happened, how much was still happening.

"Discuss the situation with your team," he said, waving a hand, "We will have that discussion you mentioned."

Sean got up, pushing his chair back. Scott went to his side immediately, his face drawn and worried. Sean kept his hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him that everything was alright. He walked out into the hall, the other members filing out behind him. Ororo was already in the hall, her communicator clutched in her hand and looking worried.

"We need to talk," she said.

"I'll say," Scott muttered.

"Not now," Sean said, "Wait until we're a little further away please. Archangel, it's your turn to go out on duty. Fill Blink in and tell her to get some rest."

Warren nodded, his expression sullen. He walked out and Sean motioned the rest of them on. He wished that he had the whole team together, but he wasn't in any position to try and compromise what he had. He had limited time and resources. It wasn't a good combination, but with everything that was going on he was going to, for one reason or another, most likely feel guilty for the rest of his life, or what was left of it.

The group filed into a small room. As soon as the door was shut Scott turned to him.

"We can't just leave Alex there!" he said.

Sean shook his head.

"I meant what I said," Sean said, "Your brother is fine. I have seen him survive far worse. If you'd tune out for a minute and concentrate on your training, you'll know that Alex knows just when to slide off the motorcycle, even with another person, to do minimal injury. Worse comes to worse he's twisted his ankle, and that hasn't slowed him down any in the past. No they weren't wearing helmets, but Alex turned the bike the minute the tire blew out. He's an expert at this."

Scott opened his mouth before looking away, his expression torn. Jean cleared her throat.

"But shouldn't we-?"

"Get on with things and get moving so we can help him out next time he faces Black Tom so he doesn't actually injure himself?" Sean asked, "Yeah, we should. I don't like the fact that we can't immediately rush out there and assist, but sometimes we can't always do what we want. Do you understand that Jean?"

Jean bowed her head and nodded.

"Scott?" Sean asked.

Scott didn't answer.

"Scott?" Sean said, raising his voice.

Scott bit his lip before nodding.

"Good," Sean said.

He turned to Ororo, who looked confused, but still worried.

"What was it you had to talk about?" he asked.

Ororo bit her lip.

"Hank called Westchester," she said, "He said he's coming."

Sean winced.

"Any way we can stop him?" he asked.

"I think he's already en route," Ororo said.

Sean swore in his head. Part of him longed for his old friend to be by his side, to help him make decisions. There was one decision that he couldn't help with though. It only served to put into perspective the fact that it would be much, much better if Hank stayed where he was. Charles had been right to leave him out of the situation.

"He would be better off at Westchester," Sean said, "Did he at least leave Carly there?"

"Yes," Ororo said.

"Well, there's that," Sean said.

"I don't understand why this isn't a good thing," Scott said.

Sean turned to him. Scott's expression was defensive.

"We need someone with Hank's medical expertise with us," Scott said, "Jean's good for short-term situations, but we're facing a serious threat and we're pretty far away from Westchester."

"And there will also be more of us than the Brotherhood," Sean said, "They're not going to like that."

"We don't have to cater to them all the time!" Scott protested.

"Right now we do," Sean said.

He looked at Scott. He needed to make sure that his next words were understood. Scott was really just a child, one that was far too ready to exchange his childhood for a war. Had Alex seen that, mourned it? He had tried to slow Scott's progress as an X-man at first, and maybe that was why.

Unfortunately, childhood seemed like a luxury that was in short supply in the mutant world.

"Ororo, Jean, could you leave for a moment?" Sean asked.

They shared worried glances, but they did what they were bid. It was part of their training. When they were gone Sean put his hands in his pockets.

"Scott," he said, "out of all of your teammates, you have the potential to actually lead the X-men. I know for a fact that your brother looks on you as his successor, not because you're his brother, but because he knows that you can do it."

Scott blinked and Sean swallowed.

"All of you are talented, all of you form a unit that can probably go up against anything," Sean said, "But you're the one who shows potential for leadership. I want you to think very carefully about that statement. One day the lives of your team may be in your hands. One day you may even have to choose which ones to save."

Scott looked aghast, but Sean continued.

"As such the world will seem like an awful place," Sean said, "Sometimes it's going to be hard to live with yourself."

His hands clenched into fists in his pockets.

"But you're going to have to find a way, because giving up is not an option. Not for people like you, like Alex, like Hank, like the professor," Sean said.

He swallowed again.

"Like me."

* * *

Lorna coughed as she opened her eyes. It felt as though someone had shoved a pile of coal dust down her throat. It was an intensely uncomfortable feeling and she could feel bruises beginning to spring up. Black Tom's mocking face danced in front of her eyes, his sick claim to Terry's guardianship ringing in her ears.

She pushed herself up. Parts of the motorcycle lay around her, as well as broken branches. They had taken quite a tumble off the side of the road. Lorna got to her feet, still feeling dazed. Nothing was broken, so that was good. She couldn't hear anyone pursuing them, but they had to move. She needed to tell Havok that, if he didn't already know.

Lorna looked around. Where was Havok? Swallowing hard she began to look around. She briefly considered seeking out any metal in the area, but she dismissed it for the foolish thought that it was. Havok was a member of the X-men. X-men didn't wear metal in their uniforms specifically because of her and her father.

She couldn't call out either. She wasn't supposed to call attention to herself in case Black Tom had sent people after them. Lorna cursed and began flinging bramble out of her way. Where was he? He was the master cyclist, the one who seemed to know all the fancy tricks to pull. Surely he knew how to crash. Or maybe he had never crashed, maybe he was too good for that. Too good until a stupid girl with green hair got tossed onto him from a truck.

Her throat tightened as she pushed her way through some more branches. She saw Havok lying on ground, face down. Lorna ran over and knelt down beside him. She turned him over and saw that a fresh cut was opening up on his head. Blood was trickling from the wound and pooling in his neck. Lorna took a deep breath, trying to push down the rising panic.

The last person she had seen injured was Azazel, and he hadn't made it. Lorna fought to keep her eyes open. If she allowed them to close than she would just open herself up to terrible images of the night that he had died. She hadn't been able to save him, had just ripped her coat and tried to think of something to do.

Lorna's eyes began to water from the air, but she kept them open.

"Wake up," she said.

Havok didn't move.

"Wake up you goddamn idiot!" Lorna said.

She shook him, but it just caused blood to sprinkle on her. Lorna swallowed, seeing the red darken the purple to black. It wasn't the night that Azazel had died, it wasn't him that she was kneeling by. Lorna tried to tell herself that it wasn't happening again, but a dark corner of her mind kept telling her that it was.

"Wake up Scholastic!" she snapped.

She slapped him once across the face. A moment later his eyes flickered open and her heart skipped a beat.

"The hell did you hit me for?" he mumbled.

Lorna wanted to hug him, but she just cocked her head.

"No sleeping on the job," Lorna said, "What do they teach you at Westchester?"

"Our multiplication tables," he said.

He winced and touched the cut on his forehead.

"This…really hurts."

Lorna scoffed, her throat still dry.

"It's just a little scrape you baby," she said.

He made a face and wiped off the blood from his forehead and neck with the cuff of his sleeve.

"The head always does bleed over the stupidest things," he muttered.

Lorna chose not to respond, getting to her feet and looking in the direction of the road, trying to clear her head.

"We should get going," she said, "They were headed that way. Without our transport it will take a while to reach them. Maybe a couple of hours."

"I couldn't save you and the bike," Havok said, getting to his feet.

"I'm not complaining," Lorna said.

She paused.

"Thank you, by the way," she said.

Havok laughed softly and shook his head.

"I wonder when we can stop thanking each other for saving the other's life and just start taking it as a given that we will," he said.

Lorna managed a weak smile.

"Probably not anytime soon," she said.

Havok grinned back at her. They started up the side of the road. Lorna tried to distract herself from what had just happened. Azazel's death had left her in a strange position, unwilling to see anyone that she had spoken with die. That was the only reason she had become so panicked over Alex's injury, had felt so shaken.

Inwardly though, she knew it wasn't true. She had been worried because she cared. It was a terrifying revelation.

* * *

Sean walked out of the room, his hands in his pockets. He felt awful for the talk he had just given Scott, especially given what was going to happen soon. His feet felt like lead as he walked into the room with the projector. Magneto was standing there, staring at the image of a truck pulling into a factory. He didn't turn as Sean walked beside him.

"Done giving your team a little pep talk?" Magneto asked.

Sean closed his eyes for a minute and felt the crumpled picture of Terry in his coat pocket.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He could tell Magneto was frowning at him, even if he couldn't see his expression.

"About the fact that you're separated from your daughter, that she's out on the field and you don't have any of your people with her," Sean said.

He opened his eyes. Magneto was looking at him as though he'd sprouted a second head. However, he didn't speak.

"You care about her," Sean said, "It's the first time I've thought of you as something other than the leader of the Brotherhood since Cuba."

Magneto's frown deepened.

"All real fathers care for their children," he said, "More than anything."

Sean bit the inside of his cheek.

"I know," he said.


	25. Chapter 25

February 23, 1974

Terry watched her uncle with big eyes. She knew she shouldn't be staring at him. It would only make him mad. However, she could tell that he was angry and anxious. The pale man stood next to him, looking completely unaffected by the proceedings. Terry wondered what was going on, but she didn't ask. She just ducked her head and let her hair hide her.

"You should have let me kill them," her uncle said, "We could have found them!"

"I doubt that. From what I have seen of the elder Summers, he is intelligent and quick on his feet. Magneto's daughter appears to be the same," the pale man said.

Despite herself Terry's eyes widened. They were talking about Lorna. She was alright. Lorna was coming for her uncle. Terry hoped that she was coming for her too, but she knew it would be wrong to get her hopes up. Terry wasn't even family after all. It would be wrong of her to expect too much from a woman who had only expressed fondness for her.

"Besides, it was your incompetence that allowed the situation to unfold in the first place," the pale man said, "The Brotherhood and the X-men were supposed to fight each other, not team up."

"I told you I could handle it!"

"Your manner of handling it has nearly ruined everything," the pale man said, his voice still flat, "I really don't think that I can trust that particular definition anymore."

Her uncle gritted his teeth.

"I could have gotten them out of the way."

"And endangered my work?" the pale man said, "No, I think not."

"I said if you wanted the elder-"

"I don't," the pale man said, "But, in some fashion, the Summers bloodline must continue. I want to see why it's working the way it is, to dissect it. It's why I've picked the youngest, for his peculair abilities. But the elder must be allowed to propagate the bloodline. I won't have something like that die out if I can help it."

He adjusted his coat.

"If you must then I suppose the elder is disposable," the pale man said, "But we have to at least try."

Her uncle glared at him, his fists clenched. The pale man smiled.

"Now now Tom," he said, "Mind your temper. And, speaking of the plan, when am I getting that Summers?"

"Today," her uncle spat.

"Goody," the pale man said.

His eyes looked over at Terry. She shrank back further beneath the gaze of his dark eyes.

"I think she looks quite pitiful," he said.

Her uncle glared at her and inwardly Terry sighed. She couldn't shrink back any further. What did he want her to do?

"She'll work," he snapped.

Terry closed her eyes. Now she was involved. Her terror was starting to fade away, still there, still all encompassing, but almost numbed. There was too much of it.

"She'd better," the pale man said, "I want my Summers."

"I already told you you'd get him!"

"I said for you to mind your temper," the pale man said, "After all, we both know what happens if you fail."

Her uncle snarled and the pale man laughed.

"So you do. Good. Now, I need to go make my preparations. We're lucky it was only your equipment that was ruined in that little raid."

Terry heard her uncle stomp his good leg as the pale man continued laughing. The door opened and shut. She heard her uncle turn on his foot and head towards her. She lifted her eyes to see him stare at her, his expression furious. Terry sighed inwardly again, feeling a little detached from her proceedings. She didn't even blink when her uncle snarled again.

"Why did you have to have her eyes?" he shouted.

He smashed his fist into the wall. To her surprise Terry didn't flinch. He glared at her once more before storming out of the room as fast as his limp could carry him. He slammed the door behind her and Terry rested her head on her knees again. The numbness was giving way to something different now, and a few tears squeezed their way out of her eyes.

She was so sick of being afraid.

* * *

Sean cracked his neck. He felt nauseous, almost as though something terrible was bubbling the pit of his stomach. Distantly he began to wonder if he was going to throw up. His head was spinning enough for it, and he wished that he could be strong like Alex, Hank, Moira, and Charles. They would be able to deal with the fear and uncertainty of making a decision like he had, or at least he thought they would. Charles had already made a similar decision after all, and he seemed to sleep well enough at night.

He looked over at Scott, who looked determined. His talk had worked, but Sean worried that it had worked too much. He felt stifled in the room. All of the important decisions in his life had been made in seconds. He had gone with Erik and Charles because he didn't want anyone to be hurt. He'd stayed with Charles because he couldn't abandon him. He'd pursued Maeve because he'd felt helpless to her pull, had married her because of the same reason.

Then there was the situation itself. Magneto was, he knew, a little suspicious of him. He didn't blame him, but he couldn't help but feel frustrated about it. Then Hank was coming. He would be there fairly soon. He'd alerted Magneto about it, which had made him even more suspicious. Sean wanted his friend with him, trusted him more than anything, but his arrival was complicating things.

It was also impetuous, more so than he would credit Hank with. However, he remembered the desperate, ferocious look in his eyes when he'd seen Carly. He had never been like that before. His wife was giving him strength, along with the little girl she was carrying, but in this case he wished that she had been able to convince him to stay at Westchester.

He got up and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to go outside for a minute," he said.

Scott nodded.

"When will you be back?" Scott asked.

"Soon," Sean said.

"Okay," Scott said.

He clasped his hand. Sean could tell that he was nervous at the thought that he was close to leading the X-men. It was a huge responsibility, one that Sean was shouldering only temporarily. He patted Scott on the shoulder in what he hoped was a gesture of support before walking out the door.

The hall seemed long. He could hear Magneto murmuring things to his team, perhaps sharing information or telling them to stay clear of the X-men. Sean found that he didn't care. Somehow, in his heart of hearts, he knew what happened next, knew that the inevitable was only a step away.

Outside the night air was cool, clearing his head for a minute. He walked away from the house, knowing that he was outside of the range of Warren and Angel. They wouldn't find him, and he could have a blessed moment alone. It would only be a moment, he was sure of it, but he needed it.

He closed his eyes, feeling the breeze on his face. For a moment he could forget what was happening, what he had lost. The snapping of branches told him that the moment was over. His memories came flooding back, but he kept his eyes closed. His fist clenched around the photograph of Terry for strength.

His eyes opened and he saw Black Tom in front of him. Black Tom smirked.

"Ready for your instructions?" he asked.

Sean gritted his teeth.

"Yes," he said.

"So you're willing to trade Cyclops for little Terry?" he said.

"Yes," Sean said, his voice short.

Black Tom laughed.

"You X-men pretend that you're so righteous," Black Tom said, "But really, you and the Brotherhood are more alike than you'd think. You'd both sell each other out for what they want."

"Will you stop chattering on and just tell me what the hell you want?" Sean snapped, "I don't have time for this."

Black Tom narrowed his eyes.

"Alright Seanny," he said.

He tapped his leg with his shillelagh.

"When you attack go in through the basement with him," he said, "you'll see a door marked 'Restricted Acess: Authorized Personnel Only.' Go in there with him, make sure he's restrained, and we'll do the rest."

Black Tom pointed at him with his shillelagh.

"And remember: you don't get Terry until my client is satisfied."

"I understand," Sean said.

Black Tom smirked.

"It's a very good feeling, watching you dancing on command," Black Tom said.

Sean looked at Black Tom, feeling bile in his throat. He had lost seven years of his little girl's life, seven years that she had been hurt. Seven years that Black Tom had been lording his revenge over him, keeping away the one thing that Sean cared about more than anything, the one thing that he thought he no longer had.

He bit back his words and turned away, his head bowed.

* * *

"Can you see him?"

"See who?" Alex asked, putting down his binoculars.

The two of them were lying on their stomachs in the brambles. They were overlooking the factory. Magnetrix had suggested going in at night, and Alex had been inclined to agree with her. If anything Black Tom would be expecting an attack from them directly after they got thrown off the road. He would be surprised that they would come back not only under the cover of darkness, but after a few hours afterwards.

Either that or he figured that they were dead. If so, then he wouldn't be expecting them to attack at all.

"Black Tom," Magnetrix said, "Who else?"

"Hey, it's not as stupid a question as it sounds," Alex said, "We have that pale guy here too. Kind of wonder what he's doing here."

He grimaced as he thought about it. He didn't want to know the kinds that Black Tom would associate with, but his job required it. Magnetrix smiled slightly.

"Right, right," she said, "But Black Tom is still our number one priority."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Alex said.

"I had to tell you once didn't I?"

Alex grinned.

"And you need to assume that I already know," he said.

"But I didn't, and you didn't," Magnetrix said, "Me one, you zero."

"I get one for catching you on the bike," Alex said.

Magnetrix cocked her head.

"Oh, we're counting that far back are we?" she asked, "Then I actually think tha I have something closer to ten and you have five."

"Five?" Alex said.

"Well, I'll give you six," Magnetrix said, "But only since you asked nicely."

Alex laughed and shook his head. He looked over at the woman next to him, a strange thought forming in his mind. Magnetrix was Magneto's daughter. She might not have worked very much with the Brotherhood, but he could tell that it was only because her father wanted to keep her close to home.

He couldn't imagine that she would stay that way for much longer. Her father might be cautious about putting her on missions or not. She had the smarts and the fighting abilities to be a top member of the Brotherhood. He was surprised, after seeing how she fought, that she wasn't on the standard roster already. Her father was probably keeping her back, most likely grooming her to lead after him.

Once they were done with the mission, then she probably would be on the standard roster. That meant that he would be fighting her fairly soon. Somehow the image of him raising his hand against her was a disturbing one. He had seen her smile, heard her laugh, fought by her side. He didn't want to hurt her.

Somehow though, somehow there was something more than that. Alex shifted next to her, trying to quell the strange feeling that was rising in him. By this time the next day, if all went well, they would be enemies again, fighting in a war that had been raging since before they had been born.

"You okay?" Magnetrix asked.

He turned his head away and stared at the factory through his binoculars.

"Fine," he said.

Alex gripped the binoculars tighter. The lie was bitter on his tongue.


	26. Chapter 26

February 23, 1974

"We have a guest," Emma said.

Her words were acidic. For a moment Sean panicked, wondering if somehow Emma had known that Black Tom had been on the grounds. However, when she opened the door and Hank walked through, Sean couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Hank was complicating things, but not as much as if Emma had somehow detected Black Tom.

Sean got up and walked over to Hank, forcing a smile on his face. Magneto scowled in the back, his fingers tapping on the table.

"I came as soon as I heard," Hank said.

"That was good of you," Magneto said.

Hank frowned at him, shifting what looked like a giant case.

"I brought as much equipment as I can," he said, "I doubt that Black Tom will observe the Geneva Convention in this battle, but I feel that my services are needed, at least from the support side."

There was a slight pause. Even Magneto looked vaguely confused.

"Could you repeat that?" Sean asked.

Hank's frown deepened.

"The fact that the two of you are teaming up for this means that there will be a rather great threat level," Hank said, "Both teams seem to have come out in full force. From what it sounds like Black Tom has an army at his disposal."

He put his case down on the floor and folded his arms.

"Marvel Girl is talented for her age, but after the attack on Cyclops last year I believe that it wouldn't be wrong to say that she still has some learning to do," Hank said, "Last I checked the Brotherhood does not have anyone who is learned enough to doctor serious trauma. Now I may be wrong, but I felt that you two were going into this battle at a distinct disadvantage."

Sean blinked. He could tell that Magneto was surprised too.

"So, to balance the two groups out, I felt that I should come," Hank said, "I understand the situation, which is why I have entered as a non-combatant. You don't need me in the arena. What is needed is someone who is concentrated on treating wounds, and I have treated Black Tom's burns before, as well as various other types. The last thing you need is people bleeding to death or suffering burns."

He cleared his throat.

"I have taken the Hippocratic oath," he said, "Which means that I am obliged to treat both teams equally when it comes to injuries. I believe you both know my personal views, but those will not be playing a role."

He cleared his throat again.

"Besides, you know Havok. It's likely he'll end up with a bellyful of shrapnel before the day is out."

Sean closed his eyes for a minute.

"That's very well thought out," he said.

"Thank you Sean," Hank said.

"And here I thought we would be dealing with Beast," Magneto said, "Not Dr. McCoy."

Amusement laced his tone. Sean was irritated, but at the same time he was glad. Magneto didn't feel threatened by the addition of Hank onto their team. He might even be grateful for his medical expertise. It was possible that he only saw him as a doctor, the political activist that he was trying to become.

Then again, he hadn't seen Hank fight the Friends of Humanity.

"Beast is currently retired," Hank said.

"Currently?" Magneto said.

"He may be needed one day," Hank said, "But I don't believe it's for this particular occasion. There are quite a few of you, and I don't think that anyone thought about medical attention so far from Westchester."

Sean rubbed the back of his neck.

"You always were the practical one," he said.

"I think we all have traces of that practicality," Hank said.

Sean smiled and patted Hank on the back.

"There's a room down the hall," he said, "I think you can get set-up there. Have Marvel Girl help you. She won't go on watch for another shift or so. Did you run into her when you came in?"

"I did, yes," Hank said.

"Glad to have you here Hank," Sean said.

"Glad to be here," Hank said.

He walked out of the room. Emma followed his movements with a raised eyebrow.

"The X-men are quite peculiar," she said.

"We just care about each other," Sean said, the words bitter, "That's all."

Emma cocked her head. Magneto made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"You can leave us now Emma," he said.

She rolled her eyes before walking out of the room. Magneto turned to Sean, his expression contemplative.

"He never ceases to surprise," Magneto said.

Sean shrugged. Magneto tapped his fingers on the table again.

"What would have happened if he hadn't come here in a medical capacity?" Magneto said, "What would you have done?"

Sean gave him an even look.

"I'd have tried to persuade him to leave," he said.

"Really," Magneto said.

"Yes, really," Sean said.

He felt tired, tired of the game that Magneto was trying to play, of all of the frustrations that came with it.

"Listen, you wouldn't be with us if you didn't think that you needed us," Sean said, "And we wouldn't be with you if we didn't think we needed you. Both our teams don't like each other, and we're both trying to get them to at least cooperate. I care about Havok and you care about Magnetrix. If we do this right we'll be able to get our people safely out."

Sean gripped the edge of the table.

"That's what we're all fighting for, the only reason that we're together," he said, "And, for once, I really, really wish that you would understand that we need to work together and stop making it all so damn hard."

Magneto's expression hardened and he clenched his fist. Sean worried that he'd gone too far. Then Magneto relaxed slightly and nodded.

"Perhaps you can be trusted," he said.

"You know we can," Sean said.

Magneto sighed.

"I suppose so."

* * *

Hank unloaded his equipment. He'd brought everything he'd thought he'd need, including defibrillators. He wasn't sure if some of it would do any good, but it made him feel better. His stop at Westchester had been brief enough to collect some more things before heading down to South Dakota.

He rubbed his temples. The cool metal of his wedding ring touched his skin, even through all his fur. Carly hadn't wanted him to go, but she'd understood why he'd had to. Hank hadn't been able to leave her in Jasper though, not with the X-men embroiled in such a fight. She would be better off in Westchester where she could be guarded. She always liked it there.

"Do you want the splints on the left or the right?" Jean asked.

"Right," Hank said.

He glanced back at his case.

"Under normal circumstances I'd see if I could get some blood drawn before the fight," he said, "But everyone here needs it. I only have a few bags that I brought from Westchester. I couldn't keep more cooler for longer. If someone is gravely injured than someone else will have to donate."

"Maybe the Brotherhood has a type 'O' on their team," Jean suggested.

Hank laughed slightly.

"It would be too good to be true," he said.

He hesitated. The type 'O' comment sparked a memory.

"You know that Carly actually tried to give blood for the project before I left?" he said.

"But she can't!" Jean said.

She looked surprised, but at the same time he knew that she was secretly pleased. Jean had liked Carly ever since her blood had saved Scott's life nearly a year before. He supposed that Carly's offer elevated her even more in her eyes, always thinking of the team. However, he couldn't let Jean think that she had been willing to risk their unborn daughter.

"Well, she didn't know that," Hank said, "Although, in the heat of the moment, she might have forgotten that she was pregnant."

"So it is true."

Both of them turned towards the doorway. Mystique stood there, her eyes curious but at the same time somewhat dead. Hank put down the tools that he was using and struggled to find some sort of polite greeting. The two of them had made their peace a long time ago but, as with any member of the Brotherhood who had betrayed the X-men, things were still strange.

"I knew you got married," Mystique said, "No one ever told me you were going to be a father. Congratulations."

Jean licked her lips nervously. Hank nodded, making sure that his tone was calm.

"Thank you," he said, "We believe the child is a girl."

Mystique smirked, although Hank could still see the dead look in her eyes.

"Best of luck to this Carly then," she said, "She's going to need it."

Hank frowned.

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"Well, let's think here," Mystique said, "If the new little McCoy is anything like her daddy, well, that's going to make for one uncomfortable delivery. And Carly looked so delicate on the news."

Hank gritted his teeth. He wished that Mystique wasn't talking, that he could find a way to shut her up without disrupting the tentative peace between the Brotherhood and the X-men. He didn't want her to talk about Carly like that, didn't want to think of the possible complications that might occur during birth.

The fact of the matter was that it had crossed his mind. Carly really was delicate, her features soft. Her light injuries from the night when Graydon Creed had taken it into his head to hold her as a hostage were still healing when, for others, they would already be gone. After the initial joy of knowing he was going to be a father, he had started to worry that his mutation would cause complications in the birth.

Hank was passed caring of the child was a mutant or not. He intended to give his daughter the love and acceptance that he'd never had in his childhood. She would be raised amongst others of her kind, taught about loyalty, acceptance, and love in ways that most mutant children could only dream of.

If she was born with claws though, with elongated limbs, than that was different. He worried that Carly was going to have trouble with the delivery even if the pregnancy was fairly standard. Hank still knew that what he had, a wonderful woman who loved him and a daughter on the way, was too good to be true. He didn't want to lose either of them.

The ultrasound hadn't shown any irregularities, but he didn't want to get too comfortable. Ultrasounds were not as definite as he would like. Hank had never shared his worries with Carly, unwilling to intrude on her happiness over their child, but he was worried about his daughter's delivery.

Mystique throwing it in his face just made him angry.

"You need to leave."

Hank looked over at Jean, whose eyes were narrowed. Mystique raised her eyebrows.

"Feeling a little righteous are we?"

"You need to leave right now," Jean said.

"Or what, you'll make me little telepath?" Mystique said.

"No," Jean said, her voice calm, "I'm not controlling Brotherhood members and Emma isn't controlling X-men. But you need to leave before you ruin everything the rest of your team is working for. For some reason I don't think Magneto would be too happy that you're endangering his daughter because you felt like being cruel."

Her words were sharp and commanding, more so than he expected from Jean. Perhaps they had overlooked a force in her. Mystique shook her head and looked over at Hank.

"Send my wishes for good luck to Carly," she said.

"I'm with Marvel Girl," Hank said, "Get out."

Mystique walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Jean looked over at Hank.

"Everything's going to be fine," she said, "Your wife and your baby."

He laughed slightly and fiddled with the tools in front of him.

"How do you know I was worried?" he asked.

"I just do," Jean said.

She smiled.

"But it's going to be fine," she said.

Hank forced himself to smile in turn.

"I hope so," he said, "I hope so."


	27. Chapter 27

February 23, 1974

"So, we're going in from the top and working our way down," Havok said.

Lorna nodded.

"It seems like the best option," she said, "Besides, Black Tom will probably be towards the top floor."

"Sounds right," Havok said.

He glanced over the compound. In the distance Lorna could see the sun setting. In a few minutes it would be dark, and they would move in.

"We should probably start moving soon," Havok said.

"Not for another half hour at least," Lorna said, "We have time."

She breathed out, seeing it crystalize into a small white cloud.

"I wish we had a car," Lorna said.

"A car?" Havok asked.

She pulled her coat tighter around her.

"Or a shed," Lorna said, "Something where we're not quite so exposed to the elements."

"I did a stake-out in Alaska once," Havok said, "This isn't so bad."

Lorna rolled her eyes.

"Got you beat," she said, "Did one in Canada."

"Canada?" Havok said.

She smirked.

"Three days in winter," she said, "We built a house out of snow."

"You're kidding me," Havok said.

"I'm not," Lorna said, laughing, "I'm really not. It was pretty bad. We were using a covered fire to heat up canned food."

"I used a car radiator to heat up a can of beans once," Havok said.

"One of our cans of soup exploded because of the cold," she said.

"I'm sure I can top you," Havok said, "Just give me a minute."

Lorna laughed, holding her sides.

"You won't," she said, "I nearly got frostbite in Canada, but we got the job done."

Havok rubbed his chin. He snapped his fingers.

"Seven years ago, South America," he said, "Argentina. I had a sunburn…everywhere after about five minutes. We were in a swamp in a tree, and we had nothing but beef jerky for three days because the swamp water ruined our supplies."

He waved his hands.

"Trapped with two other guys on an all beef jerky diet. Terrible," Havok said, "The mosquitos were swarming, we'd forgotten the bug spray, and Beast was there talking about our chances of getting malaria. Constantly. For three days."

She stared at him.

"That sounds…awful," she said.

"It was," Havok said.

He grinned, but the expression was darkened.

"We kind of figured out that there were worse things in the world when we got back though," Havok said.

Lorna pulled her arms tighter around herself, feeling confused.

"What happened?" she asked.

Havok cleared his throat. He looked over at her, his expression conflicted. In the end he sighed.

"Well, your father already knows," he said.

He shook his head.

"Banshee left his wife behind when he went on that mission. His pregnant wife," he said.

Lorna bit her lip, unsure of what to say to that.

"He was supposed to be back before the baby was born," Havok said, "They all said, all the doctors I mean, that she wasn't due for months. We were gone longer than we expected, but we got back in plenty of time. But…"

He trailed off before sighing again.

"She got into a car accident while we were away. Her and the baby died," Havok said.

Lorna looked away.

"I'm sorry," she said.

There was a pause. She looked up and saw that Havok was staring at her, his expression confused and contemplative. It made her feel strange.

"You mean that," he said.

"Of course I do," Lorna said.

Havok shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm going to say something," he said, "because I don't think I'm going to have another chance to say it. I don't want you to be offended, but I figure that it'll probably happen whether I want it to or not."

She frowned, but Havok stared straight ahead.

"You're different from the rest of the Brotherhood," he said, "I know I've said that before, and I know you've denied it, but I think that it bears repeating. And, since I know how much this is probably going to piss you off, I am going to ask that you don't interrupt me for a moment or two."

Lorna crossed her arms, but she bit back the words she wanted to say.

"You're much kinder, more empathetic than the others are. And no matter what you think, I do know them," he said, "Evil, chaotic, rebels, whatever you choose to call them, they're hurting our cause. And they don't like to hear that their wrong. None of them would be willing to talk about what you've talked with me about. None of them would try to hear what I have to say like you have."

He sighed. Lorna made a face. She was tired of hearing Havok's platitudes, tired of hearing things that she knew were wrong. Her family wasn't evil. They loved her, and they were trying to change the world. The X-men were nice, for the people who weren't willing to do what was necessary to save their kind.

She wanted to tell Havok that, but she respected him enough to let him finish.

"I say this now because I've been thinking," Havok said, "And after tonight, you and I are going to be enemies again. You're going to do your damndest to kill me on the field, and I'll do the same."

Lorna swallowed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"I want you to know that I don't want to do that," Havok said, "And I feel comfortable enough, for some reason, in telling you this. Because I consider you a friend now. And I have the feeling that that wouldn't have happened with every Brotherhood member."

"You know that?" Lorna said.

Havok nodded.

"Yes," he said, "Yes I do."

She mustered up a laugh.

"I don't even know your name," she said.

He swallowed.

"It's Alex," he said, "Short for Alexander. Alexander Summers."

She stared at him. She remembered the feeling she'd had when she'd thought that he could be seriously injured, remembered the panic that had welled up inside her, the guilt over the fact that she had felt panic over his injuries. Now she knew his name. Somehow that made it even more real.

"My father already knows your name," Lorna said, "It doesn't make a difference."

Alex ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm trying to show you how serious I am," Alex said, "I want you to know that I mean what I say when I say that, after everything that we've been through, I don't want to have to fight you."

Feeling a little like she was drowning Lorna tilted her head up.

"So you want me to betray my father, my family, and play house with your X-men?" she asked.

Alex threw his hands up in the air. Lorna felt as though a heavy weight had been placed on her chest.

"I'm asking you to maybe think about what you're doing," he said, "Just, think about if this life is what you want. Because I swear, the way you see the Brotherhood is not how it really is. You've seen just a small portion of what they do and you've come away with an idealized version of what it really is."

Lorna shifted her feet, trying to collect herself. She wanted to tell him what she was feeling, what she was thinking, but her words felt like they were getting stuck in her throat. Lorna chewed on her lip, wondering why, in all the lessons that her father and Azazel had given her, the nights spent refining her code breaking skills with Emma, learning to disguise herself with Angel, no one had taught her what to do in a situation like this.

She had to learn fast. Lorna hesitated before putting her hand on his arm. He stared at the gesture, almost as though not sure what it meant.

"I know that you mean what you say," Lorna said, "That you honestly think that I'm being deceived. Because, unfortunately, we are sort of friends."

"Sort of?" he said.

She laughed.

"Yeah, we're friends," Lorna said.

He looked at her and Lorna managed a shrug.

"But Alex, you don't know them," she said, "You only think you do. They're better people than you give them credit for. And one day, maybe you'll see that."

Alex snorted softly and looked back over the factory. Lorna chewed on her lip again, worried that he wouldn't say anything. The weight on her chest pressed down further.

"I'm never going to forget what happened at Cuba," Alex said, "I'm never going to forgive that either."

Lorna sighed, letting her hand drop off his shoulder.

"But your father must have a little decency in him to inspire such loyalty from you," Alex said, his tone grudging.

Lorna felt as though the weight on her chest was a little lighter.

"I don't look forward to fighting you in the field," he said.

"I don't look forward to it either," Lorna said, "This is probably the last time we're going to fight together."

She turned her head and grinned at him.

"So let's make it epic and beat the shit out of that asshole," Lorna said.

Alex grinned in return.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"So that's the plan?"

Sean nodded.

"We go in an hour," he said, "And we'll have teams come through the appropriate levels and see what they can do to infiltrate. We'll keep in communication at all times if possible."

"Are we mixing the teams?" Magneto asked.

Sean sighed before nodding.

"We're going to have to," he said, "I believe that Riptide and Storm should go together. They should be able to create a good distraction in the front."

"Black Tom's men'll piss their pants," Angel said.

She nudged Mystique, who continued to stare ahead.

"Right?" she asked.

Mystique didn't say anything. Angel sighed and looked back at the group. Sean wondered just what was wrong with Mystique. Jean had told him of the situation that had occurred with Hank. He was glad that she had been able to handle it, he knew that Hank was very protective of Carly and it could have spiraled out of control very easily. The last thing he needed was Mystique going crazy on them.

As he watched Riptide looked over at Storm.

"Think you can keep up?" he asked.

She snorted.

"Think you can?" she asked.

Riptide smirked and Sean turned back to Magneto.

"Okay, quick review then. You and Mystique go from the west side with Archangel, from the roof and work your way down," Sean said, "Blink and Marvel Girl are coming from the same onto the first floor. As for Emma and Angel, they get the back."

He swallowed, the next few words feeling as though they were razor blades in his mouth.

"And Cyclops and I will go from the east side, through the basement," he said, "We'll all regroup in the second floor. If someone finds Black Tom, then send out the signal."

Scott nodded.

"I'm ready for this," he said.

Sean nodded. He knew Scott was ready. He wasn't sure if he was though.


	28. Chapter 28

February 23, 1974

Ororo cracked her neck. She could see the factory where Black Tom had set up his base of operations. She wondered if her teacher was inside, already fighting for his life. He'd have to watch his back too though: the Brotherhood witch he was with wouldn't hesitate to stab him in the back. Her father had probably taught her how.

Personally Ororo thought that the whole team-up was a bad idea, she disliked the fact that she was so far away from her real teammates, forced to work with a man she had often fought against. She understood why though. Even after the distraction they had a crucial part to play, and she had to calm herself down a little for that.

She glanced over her shoulder. Riptide stood next to her, small tornados forming in his hands. When he saw her looking the tornados dispersed.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

Ororo glared at him.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm from Florida," he said, "and I control wind. You control the weather. I was simply wondering if it had something to do with the region."

Ororo sneered.

"I'm from Morocco," she said.

"The Professor has connections in Morocco?" he asked.

Brushing her hair over her shoulder Ororo turned her glare to the factory. Charles had heard about her from a friend of a friend. She'd been picking pockets on the streets to survive, causing small wind storms to assure a speedy getaway from the cops. Despite this, when he'd found her, she'd been on the very edge of starvation.

He'd taken her in and his wife had helped her wash up, find new clothes. For the first time in weeks she'd eaten a filling, hot meal. They'd pulled a few strings and she'd gone to America, struggling through the language in the first few years of her life there. Now she spoke the language fluently and made good grades.

Ororo had been so happy when she had been admitted into the X-men program. She hadn't thought that she would have to work with people like the Brotherhood. Ororo wondered if this was what the Americans had felt like when they'd had to work alongside the Russians during World War II.

She didn't think that Black Tom was as threatening as the Nazis though. She hadn't seen him as more than a petty criminal that the Brotherhood had gotten together with until recently. Now that she saw him as something of a real threat, but only after what had happened with Alex and what she'd been told. The team-up was a little more palatable now, but not by much.

"You'd be surprised," she said.

Riptide waited, but Ororo wasn't going to tell him anything else. If he thought that he could use their partnership to get information out of her, than he had another thing coming.

"We have about five minutes until we go down," Riptide said, his voice biting.

"Okay," Ororo said.

She flexed her fingertips.

"I think that a good rainstorm will work with your winds," she said, "Maybe some hail too if a lot of them come out."

"Fine," Riptide.

"Good," Ororo said.

She kept her eyes fixed on the factory in front of her. They were exchanging a few short words and nothing more. That was the way it was supposed to be. Once they got Black Tom then things could go back to normal, back to the way they should be where they stopped the Brotherhood before they could do something awful.

She was sure her teachers would agree with her.

* * *

Alex watched, impressed, as Magnetrix hurled a roundhouse kick at the closest guard. It clipped his chin and sent him spiraling towards the ground. Throwing her weight into her next strike she smashed his head into the catwalk, knocking him unconscious. She got back to her feet, tugging her hood over her head.

He threw his hand into another guard's throat, causing him to drop his gun and stagger. A few well-aimed punches to the head and chest floored him. It had been pretty easy so far: the only time that they'd had to use their powers was when Magnetrix manipulated the metal in the door to let them in.

He motioned forwards and the two of them continued on, plunging deeper into the building. A few men were at computers, their fingers tapping away. Magnetrix frowned at the sight of them and Alex leaned down, trying to get a better look at them. He couldn't see the screens and turned to Magnetrix, who shook her head.

"Unimportant," she murmured.

"Not in the overall scheme of things," Alex said.

"I'm just saying that it's unimportant right now," Magnetrix said, "Let's get to Black Tom, then we'll figure out whatever criminal activities he was up to."

Her lip curled.

"One way or another," she said.

"You really want to kill him, don't you?" Alex said.

He knew that his tone came out disappointed, and he tried to hide it. He knew that he had no real right to judge Magnetrix: she was part of the Brotherhood. Alex knew that the Brotherhood believed in acting as judge, jury, and executioner. He didn't agree with it, but it was to be expected of them.

At the same time he had the creeping suspicion that, perhaps, he shouldn't take that tone. He wanted to kill Black Tom too, even though he kenw he wouldn't. Part of him even wished that he'd killed him in the hospital, or at least followed through with his threat. That way his friend wouldn't have had to deal with him in his life, a constant remind of what he had lost and betrayal.

Alex looked at Magnetrix, who was still staring over the computers. He felt like an idiot for the speech he had given earlier. What right did he have to tell her that she should think about her life? None, especially since his advice had been unasked for and he doubted that it had been wanted. He didn't even really have the right to call her his friend.

"Let's get moving," Magnetrix said.

He nodded, glad that she hadn't told him her thoughts. Although he knew it was the wrong thing to do, he also knew that it would be easier if she tried to butcher Black Tom just like the rest of the Brotherhood would. She had enough reason to hate him, and it would be in keeping with her words if she did. It would make her make sense, let him know that he had been wrong about her, that he could stop wondering if maybe there was a little humanity in the Brotherhood.

As he followed her down the catwalk he sighed. Perhaps she would try to kill Black Tom and perhaps she wouldn't. He didn't know. Predicting Magnetrix's movements had been impossible, confusing, and left him feeling like an idiot. No matter what happened, he knew that she'd find some way to surprise him.

* * *

Sean threw his weight onto the door. It didn't budge.

"Cyclops," he said.

Scott nodded and turned the wheel on the goggles. The door handle was blasted off and the door to the basement swung inwards.

"Good job," Sean said.

He moved in, checking the hallway. He figured that no one was there, but he needed to keep the air of doing things by the book. To his surprise, now that the time had come to do the thing that he had dreaded, he felt strangely detached, methodical. Sean didn't rely on it though: he knew himself too well.

Together they moved through the different hallways. It was quiet there, no guards, nothing.

"Seems a little too unguarded," Scott said, "Like Black Tom practically rolled the welcome mat out."

"Well, he would, wouldn't he?" Sean asked.

Scott nodded, probably unsure of what else to do.

"Hey Banshee?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Sean asked.

He looked over his shoulder. Scott shifted from foot to foot.

"I know that now might not be the best time to ask this," he said, "But I was thinking…with everything that's been happening and all, when, um."

He sighed.

"I was just wondering…do you really think I can do it?" Scott said, "Lead the X-men? I mean, it's been what I've always wanted, but I just didn't think that it would be this soon."

Sean paused. Now really wasn't the time, not with what was about to happen. Scott needed to hear this though, deserved to hear it.

"As I said: you have what it takes," Sean said.

"And how do you know?" Scott asked.

Sean forced a smile onto his face. He was tired of doing it, tired of lying. One way or the other, it would all be over soon.

"Because the Professor said so," Sean said, feeling better in telling the truth about something, "And Havok agreed."

He turned away from him, but he could feel Scott beaming at him. Good. He wanted him to keep the memory of the approval of his mentor and the brother that he loved like a father. He wanted him to be strengthened by the knowledge of his full strength and potential, of what everyone hoped for him.

They continued on a little further. All too soon Sean saw a door marked 'Restricted Access: Authorized Personnel Only.' He knew that it meant that they had come to the end of their time, that he was going to have to fight for every inch of his sanity now. He would need it before the night was out.

"Through here," Sean said.

Scott didn't argue, because he was Scott, because he trusted him. Black Tom had known that he would trust him, knew that Scott would follow Sean blindly. He opened the door and looked at the stairs that led up. The room wasn't lit, and he knew that he would have to go a little further before he reached his destination.

"Come on, it looks like the basement's clear," Sean said.

Scott nodded and followed Sean up the stairs. They got up into the first room, a small affair that Sean thought might have once housed the factory controls. He shuddered at the sight of it, trying to calm his beating heart. He needed to think about Terry, think about the daughter who had been at Black Tom's mercy for the past seven years.

He motioned for Scott to come in. As soon as he was passed the doorway Sean punched him in the jaw. It was the last thing anyone would expect from a teammate, a man who had helped mentor him, a man who was best friends with his older brother. Scott stumbled and Sean forced him onto the floor.

"Sean, what the hell?"

He ignored him and tore a pair of zip cuffs out of his belt. His mouth felt like it was filled with acid as he fastened them around Scott's wrist. It only took seconds. Interpol had trained him how to do it quickly, and he had set the department record. They were strong enough to last for a few hours, and Sean had the feeling that Black Tom's client wouldn't need them on for that long.

As soon as the zip cuffs were fastened he reached out and turned off the goggles that ringed around Scott's forehead. Now all they would do was block his mutation, and because his hands were tied he wouldn't be able to switch them back on. Scott was restrained and powerless, and Sean had rarely felt worse.

"Sean, what's going on?"

Scott's voice was steady, and Sean couldn't help but admire that. He didn't answer though, couldn't find it in himself to do so. A door opened up and a pale man with red and black eyes stepped in. His expression was eager and familiar. Sean stared at him. It felt like the world was playing a cruel trick on him yet again.

"You?" Sean said.

"My my," Sinister said, "It's been years Banshee! When was it last, South America?"

He laughed. Sean wished it hadn't been him. How could it be him?

"Beast ripped a hole in your chest!" Sean said.

"As if I'd let a little thing like that get in the way of my research," Sinister laughed.

Sean stared. Everything had just gotten worse, and it felt like his life was going around in circles. One of Sinister's men stepped forward and picked pulled Scott to his feet. He struggled, but another man came. Powerless and restrained, he didn't stand much of a chance.

"Sean?" Scott asked.

His voice was strained, and once more Sean admired him.

"Ah, what does it matter?" Sinister said, "I have what I want. I believe your cousin wants a word with you."

He waved the two men on, still dragging Scott.

"Sean?" Scott said.

Sean gritted his teeth, trying to shut out Scott's calls. It was impossible though. Even after the door slammed behind Sinister, he could still hear them echoing in his head.

"And here I was, wondering if you would actually do it."

Sean turned and looked at Black Tom, his hands clenched into fists.


	29. Chapter 29

February 23, 1974

Erik waved his hand over the door, the metal handle falling to pieces. Behind him Archangel shifted on his feet, his wings rustling slightly. Mystique stared ahead, her eyes dead but her lips curled into a snarl. Erik wished that she would piece herself together for the oncoming fight. He knew just as well as anyone at the Brotherhood how hard it was to lose someone you loved. He might even be able to understand what Mystique was going through with Azazel's death better than any of them.

She wouldn't accept any comfort from him though, not since the rather cold termination of their own relationship when Lorna had arrived. He hadn't been able to even look at her, knowing that her regard for him was much more than his for her. Lorna's presence only reminded himself of that.

Before he'd thought that, in time, he might have been able to care for her as she did for him. However, Lorna's arrival had told him that it wasn't going to happen. Mystique had realized it too, and her anger to him still, in some form or another, burned on. It had lessened since she had fallen in love with Azazel, but he knew that her resentment would be kindled anew if he tried to help her with her current emotional pain.

Besides, he had his own problems to deal with. He didn't like that Lorna had defied him. Erik understood, and he knew that if anyone else had asked he would have let them go. Lorna wasn't anyone though. She was his acknowledged daughter, a tempting target for people like Black Tom whose only goal was to hurt the Brotherhood.

The idea of her travelling with Alex was a bad one as well. If Erik had had to pick which member of the X-men she would fight alongside, he would have picked Hank. Hank had never had a nervous breakdown. Hank was a good fighter, but he showed very little of Alex's erratic behavior.

Beyond that the idea that she was interacting with the X-men at all was a bad one. He'd wanted to keep her separate from them. There were people that he hoped that she would respect such as Charles, but he wanted to keep her out of their fantasy. Not that he had any doubts about where her loyalties lay. He just didn't want her to have to deal with people as stupid and naïve as the X-men were.

All of these masked a greater concern. Lorna had never been in a field situation anywhere near as complicated or dangerous as the one that had been laid before them. He had taken such care to make sure that she was kept out of it. Now she was being threatened by what he could only describe as scum, scum who, if what Sean said was true, was also insane.

Erik hated himself for trusting him in the first place, but there was no room for that. Black Tom came, he killed one of his best soldiers, and he had kidnapped his daughter. Now Lorna was free and going after him, just like he had always taught her. Erik just wished that he had been able to phase her into such combat situations gently.

If a single hair on her head was hurt than he would kill Black Tom himself, but only after he made him suffer. The very possibility of her being hurt was one that made his lungs burn as he entered through the factory through roof entrance, angry that he wouldn't be able to go to her straight away. There was logic in the plan that had been laid before him, and it was the only reason he had agreed to it. Now she was out there, fighting for her life.

In another place, another time, he might have been able to keep Lorna out of a field situation altogether. However, in the world they lived in he lacked that power.

* * *

Lorna waved her hand and the doors to the room flew open. Five guards turned around, their hands still on the keyboards. One of them reached for their gun, but Alex sent a bolt of light at him. His hands burned and sizzled. The guard drew his hand back, screaming. A minute later Lorna forced the door off its hinges and sent it hurtling into the nearest group of guards. They fell beneath it, and she made it hit them one more time for good measure.

One managed to level his gun, but Alex stopped him with another blast of heat. This one just knocked the gun out of his hands, sending it spiraling to the floor. A minute later Alex grabbed him by the front of his uniform and lifted him up into the air. He slammed him into the wall, glaring at him.

"Where's Black Tom?"

The man's eyes widened, his lips moving inarticulately. Lorna walked up behind Alex, her face set. She wished that there was more metal in the room that she could bend, something to make her feel more at home. There was next to nothing though, and it made her feel as though she were a fish out of water.

Alex removed one of his hands from the front of the man's shirt. Red light glowed around it and he sighed.

"Do I really need to burn your face off?" he asked.

The man's eyes widened further and Lorna's heart stopped. This wasn't about to happen, was it?

"The basement!" the man screamed, "Something about an exchange!"

Lorna cocked her head. What was he talking about?

"Got any more detail on that?" Alex asked.

"That's all I know!" he said.

Alex brought his hand closer to the man's face, the red light intensifying. Sweat poured down the guard's face. Lorna watched, caught between stopping Alex and shock that, after everything he had said, he was actually intending to torture the man he had found. She wasn't a fool: she knew that members of the Brotherhood engaged in some torture, but she had been told it consisted of little more than hitting a prisoner a few times.

Burning someone's face off was much different. Lorna hadn't expected that, had thought better of him. She stepped forward, keeping her face as neutral as she could, but she was going to stop him. Alex had his back turned to her, couldn't see her, but one way or another she wasn't going to let things be taken so far.

To her surprise Alex withdrew his hand, the red light fading.

"Nah, you're telling the truth," he said.

The man blinked. A minute later Alex slammed his head against the wall, watching his unconscious form slide down to the floor. He looked back at Lorna, who stared.

"What?" he asked.

"You just…you were going to-!" Lorna said.

His eyes darkened.

"No I wasn't!" Alex snapped, "The hell is the matter with you?"

"The hell is the matter with me?" Lorna demanded.

Alex snarled. Somehow or another she had struck a sore spot.

"Look, Magnetrix, let me get something perfectly clear: I don't actually burn people's faces off," Alex said, "I can, but I don't. It's called control."

"What was that then?" she demanded.

"That's what you thought this was?" Alex said.

He waved his hand.

"Let me tell you what it was, because apparently you don't understand. People get intimidated by this," he said, "I can't blame them, but if they're intimidated than it means that they're more likely to open up and spill. It's a hell of a lot easier than other methods. What did you think I was, some sort of monster?"

His words were bitter. Lorna looked away.

"I hoped you weren't," she said.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked tired and frustrated. She watched as Alex rubbed his temples.

"Nevermind," he said, "Just…nevermind. I can see how you would…forget it."

He straightened his jacket. Lorna sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Yeah, nevermind," Alex said.

"Stop saying that," Lorna said, "I meant what I said."

She put her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think past what I saw on the surface, and I should have," she said, "I've just never really been in this kind of situation with you. With anyone actually."

"I know, I know," Alex said.

She shrugged, smiling even though her throat felt like sandpaper. She felt stupid, stupid and angry with herself.

"So Black Tom's in the basement?" she said.

"Sounds like," he said.

He jerked his head towards the door.

"Then let's not keep him waiting," he said.

* * *

Black Tom laughed again. Sean was sick of his voice, sick of his face, sick of everything that had transpired that night. Scott's voice was still echoing in his ears, and he felt as though he was going to throw up. He swallowed and clenched his fists so far inwards that, despite the gloves, he could just feel the pressure of his nails.

"Where's Terry?" he said.

Black Tom cocked his head.

"Beg pardon?" he laughed.

"Don't be stupid," Sean said.

"Oh, I'm not stupid," Black Tom said, "I just want you to clarify. Is that so bad?"

Sean swore inside his head, wishing that he could rip the man in front of him apart. It wasn't the time though.

"Terry, my daughter," he said.

His voice was pleading. It sounded pathetic, but he couldn't help it.

"I held up my part of the bargain," he said, "You have to hold up yours. Now where's Terry?"

Black Tom grinned.

"First floor control room," he said, "Surrounded by guards of course, but she's here. I told you she would be."

Sean closed his eyes for a minute. He had thought that Terry would be near. Black Tom wouldn't let his prize, his best bait, be kept too far from him.

"I'm going," Sean said.

Before he could take a step forward Black Tom tapped the wall with his shillelagh.

"Ah ah ah," Black Tom said.

Sean glared at him.

"What is it you want now?" he hissed.

Black Tom's grin widened.

"I happen to know about the little plan that you have to infiltrate my factory," he said, "No doubt you're hoping that you can get your daughter and make off before anyone finds out what you've done. How they would hate you, all of your precious little friends. Am I right Seanny?"

Sean gritted his teeth.

"I thought as much," he said, "But, you see, I can't allow myself to be caught. That fancy wind show in the front? I know it's not all of your forces. You're not dumb enough to do a full frontal attack. You're dumb enough for many things, but I don't think that you would make such a poor tactical gambit."

"You said you'd give me my daughter," Sean said, bile filling his throat, "That was the agreement."

"It's still the agreement," Black Tom said, "But I never specified what condition I could give her in to you."

"You said she'd be alive!" Sean said.

"And she can be," Black Tom said, "As long as there's a breath in her lungs than I think that counts as being alive. However…if that were to be her last breath, then I suppose that it still fulfills our bargain."

"You sonuvabitch!" Sean said.

He stepped forward and Black Tom waved his hand.

"Don't be boring," he said, "You must know that I've left instructions for Terry's guards. Instructions about what to do if I don't get back. You're wasting time even as you think about killing me."

Sean swallowed and Black Tom grinned.

"Good," he said, "Now then, there are two things I want you to do. The first is to tell me where everyone is coming in from so that I can figure that out. The second is, because of your rather extensive knowledge of his skills, is to deal with the second, and rather prominent, nuisance on my list."

Sean closed his eyes. He had wondered if this would come up. Black Tom had Terry, and he knew that he was going to use her for all she was worth.

"Havok is here, isn't he?" Sean asked.

"Him and Magneto's scrappy little girl," Black Tom said, "My monitors say that they should be arriving here at any minute."

Sean opened his eyes. The nightmare just wouldn't stop.

"I don't expect the two of you to fight. I have my own plans about that," he said, "Perhaps just tell him what happened to the brother he was always going on about? Yes, I think that would be a worthy distraction."

Sean bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood.


	30. Chapter 30

February 23, 1974

Scott tried to keep his breathing steady, tried to concentrate. The zip cuffs were tight around his hands. He had tried flexing them, searching for some give. It wasn't the zip cuffs that he was worried about now though. Instead he was worried about the holding cell that he had been thrown into.

The sheer plastic walls allowed him to look out as the man that Sean had called Sinister busied himself. They were too busy to break, but he was sure that they would melt if he could turn his goggles on. Sinister wasn't paying much attention to him. He was humming, actually humming.

Scott swallowed, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. Alex had taught him that when he concentrated on his breathing it would help him calm down, help him think. He needed to be able to think now.

There were at least seven guards in the room, each of them posted on the entrances and the exits. It made Scott's head hurt, making everything that much more difficult. He would deal with that when he came to it though. He'd heard what Sean had said, and if that was true than Sinister was the greatest threat in the room.

As though hearing his thoughts Sinister turned around, his expression pleasant.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," Sinister said.

He leaned up against his table, his eyes alight.

"Well, in a nutshell you're here because Black Tom holds considerable leverage over your brother's friend," Sinister said, "So you have that to thank for your current predicament. Don't worry: you didn't get traded over a family heirloom or anything silly."

Scott didn't answer. Sinister smiled.

"So stoic. You remind me of your brother. Less shouting, of course, but the resemblance is strong," Sinister said, "I got hit by more than one of his blasts in South America. Him and his friends completely destroyed my lab."

He shrugged.

"Tore my heart out as well, but that's a mere trifle," he said.

"I know people who would disagree," Scott said.

"Oh, so you can speak," Sinister said, "Fascinating."

He scratched his chest. Beneath the button up shirt Scott could just see ragged stitches.

"I have ways with such things," he said, "They set me back ten years though, released all of my specimens, and that wasn't a trifle. I would have been furious, nigh inconsolable, if not for your brother. He made everything better."

Sinister's smile widened.

"Now, I'm not just yammering on and on here," he said, "I want you to fully understand what's happening here, why you're important."

"Why?" Scott said.

"So that it makes sense of course!" Sinister said, "I want you to know what a wonderful contribution you're making."

"I'm honored," Scott said, his voice biting.

"You should be," Sinister said, "You don't know how long I've tried to get my hands on a Summers. And then, to find a generation where two mutants had been produced. Do you know what the odds are of that happening to a couple who are only carriers of the X-gene, producing two male mutants with similar powers?"

Even if Scot had felt inclined to answer, Sinister didn't let him.

"Almost a million to one!" Sinister said, "But such is the absolute wonder of the Summers bloodline."

He walked up to the plastic walls, his eyes practically glowing.

"Do you know when the first mutant walked the earth?" he asked.

Again, there wasn't time for an answer.

"Five thousand years ago," Sinister said, "Now, I may be a little off, but I have researched this thoroughly. Five thousand years ago humanity was trying to take its leap towards the next stage, towards bettering itself."

Scott held his tongue. Sinister frowned.

"You should be interested in this," he said, "For almost all of those five thousand years, Summers have been around in some form or another. As mutants."

Scott paused. Despite his better instincts he was actually interested now. He cursed himself for it.

"However, it always skips a generation, and it always falls on the males," he said, "Sometimes, in generations where there are only females, it skips them, but is present in one of their male offspring."

He made a wild gesture with his hand.

"Do you understand the sheer strangeness of this? The weight of it significance?" Sinister said, "The males are the ones who carry the appropriate genes to make mutations possible, yet it is passed on through females and males alike in your family. Yet it only comes to fruition in the males. No other family has this trait."

Scott made a face.

"You know way too much about my family," he said.

"I'm a researcher," Sinister said, his voice condescending, "It's my job. However, at the same time as mutations have been passed along, there has been very little variation. This too is rare. When I saw Magnetrix, Magneto's daughter, I was equally amazed that she had her father's mutation. It's very rare, especially for a female."

He shook his head.

"Still, that's unimportant," he said, "You see, the cosmic radiation that you and your brother control has been present in every single manifestation of your family's mutation. Usually, along the line, a mutation will be added to. It's like a perfect mutation has been found, something nature is unwilling to change."

"It's not perfect," Scott snapped.

He knew that he should remain silent, but the claim Sinister had just made was too ridiculous for words. Scott had nearly blown up a street the first time that his mutation had manifested himself. Even with the goggles it had taken ages to find the right settings so he didn't fry everything that he used his powers on.

Sinister's eyes narrowed.

"Don't argue," he said.

He sighed.

"You don't appreciate your gift," he said, "This is unfortunate. Do you realize what such a thing means? It means that it's likely that the members of your family who didn't manifest this gene, because I have kept a very close eye on them, are related to most members of the mutant race. This relationship has, of course, been highly, highly diluted to the point where you are probably as closely related to the rest of the mutant world as Adam and Eve, but it means that you have the very basic building blocks of mutation inside of you."

Sinister beamed. Scott rolled his eyes again, summoning up the courage that his brother was so famous for.

"And this means what exactly?" he said.

Sinister sighed and walked away from the glass.

"A pity that intelligence is not one of the mutations of the Summers bloodline," he said.

Scott tried the zip cuffs again. He swore he could feel give in them.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Sinister said.

He turned to face him and Scott stopped his struggles with the zip cuffs.

"Over the next few weeks I intend to take you apart and see what makes you tick," he said, "I want samples of your blood, your hair, your skin, and I want to perform a vivisection when you use your powers. There are other things, but I think that those are the most important. At least for now. I'll try to keep you alive for a few months, but I know that, in the end at least, you will have to die for my final tests."

Sinister shrugged.

"It's nothing personal, truly," he said, "I just want to know what makes you special."

Scott swallowed but didn't say anything. He tried the zip cuffs again and felt them give a little. He just had to be patient.

* * *

Alex raced down the stairs, Magnetrix close behind him. It was shocking just how few guards they had encountered. It was also worrying. Alex couldn't figure out any reason why, with their base under attack, all of the manpower would be diverted away from where the emergency was happening.

He had the feeling that they were walking into a trap. Magnetrix's expression told him that she was thinking the same thing too. However, they both knew that there wasn't anything else that they could do. They needed to find Black Tom, and if Black Tom had set up a trap for them, then they really couldn't avoid it.

Knowing that they were going into a trap would help though. Moira had always taught them that, if you knew you were going to walk into a trap, then at least be prepared for it. She told them to think like their enemy, to see the area as a place for defense rather than offense. That kind of thinking had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Trying to get inside of Black Tom's head only left him with a headache though. The man was insane. He had taken on both the Brotherhood and the X-men and then basically laughed about it. He had outright killed one of the Brotherhood's chief assassins and captured Magneto's daughter.

Did he have any idea just how dangerous Magneto was? Alex could still remember the hundreds of missiles aimed at the ships outside of Cuba, and that had been in retaliation for an attack that he stopped. Magnetrix had actually been taken and one of his teammates killed. Alex didn't want to think about what Magneto would do to Black Tom if he caught him.

Then Black Tom had attacked Alex, which was stupid because people would come for him. They would want to know that he was alright, they would go to defend their field leader. He had been sloppy in his execution of everything that he had done, and Alex could just chalk that up to Black Tom being Black Tom. There were some other inconsistencies though. Everything else was almost unbelievably stupid, and Alex wasn't sure that Black Tom was quite that stupid.

He looked along the walls of the hallway, looking for a secret door or weapons that had been set up to fire automatically. Alex didn't find anything and he started listing other ways that the halls before him could be booby-trapped. He wished Moira were there then. If nothing else he missed her tone when she was pointing out the obvious traps in a case study.

A door loomed before him. The metal on it was rusty. He stopped and gestured to Magnetrix. She smirked and the door flew open before her command. The room was dark and Alex looked at Magnetrix. She looked back at him, her expression somewhat uncertain. He shrugged.

"Onwards?" he said.

Magnetrix hesitated before nodding. Together they stepped into the room. No one was inside, but he could see the dull glow of command panels.

"Just what did this factory make?" Magnetrix asked.

He shrugged.

"Twinkies?" he said.

Magnetrix rolled her eyes as the door shut behind them. The panels lit up and a wreath of electricity surrounded them. Magnetrix backed up from it and Alex fired a bolt of light. The electricity absorbed it before throwing it back at them. Alex grabbed Magnetrix and pulled her to the ground before it hit. It bounced back once before it fizzled out.

"Okay, not doing that again," he said.

"Yes please," Magnetrix said.

He saw her furrow her brow.

"It's not magnetic," she said.

"You couldn't have thought that I was that stupid."

They looked up. One of the screens flickered to life and showed Black Tom, his shillelagh tapping against the wall. To Alex's surprise he saw Sean standing with him, his face downcast.

"Damn it," Alex said.

He got to his feet, helping Magnetrix up as he did so.

"I figured you'd be coming," Black Tom said.

Alex didn't have time to bandy words with Black Tom. He had more pressing concerns.

"Banshee, you okay?" he said.

Sean didn't look up at him.

"So concerned," Black Tom said, "Perhaps he wouldn't be if he knew the truth."

"What?" Alex said.

He snarled at the screen. He didn't need Black Tom's mind games.

"Well, it's simply that you don't know that one of your dearest friends has just handed your brother over for torture and death in a deal," Black Tom said.

Alex sneered at the screen.

"Yeah, nice one asshole," he said.

"Oh no, just ask your friend," Black Tom said.

"Banshee, tell him to shut the hell up," Alex said.

Sean stood rooted to where he was, his eyes still downcast.

"Banshee?" Alex asked.

Something terrible gripped his heart. This couldn't be happening.

"Banshee?" Alex said, raising his voice.

Sean wouldn't look at him and it only served to increase the panic in his heart. Sean wouldn't do that to Scott. He'd helped train him, helped him with his homework, helped him discover his powers. Sean wouldn't do that to his brother, wouldn't do that to him.

"Tell me it's not true," he said.

There was still no answer. Ice and anguish stabbed his chest. Alex stumbled, his feet buckling slightly, and saw that Magnetrix was staring at him. Her face was drenched in pity and concern, but all of his attention was directed to one person and one person alone.

"Sean!"

Sean finally raised his eyes up to meet Alex's.

"Tell me that's not true!" he screamed.


	31. Chapter 31

February 23, 1974

Sean took a deep breath, Alex's cries sharpening his mind. Black Tom's beady eyes were staring at him with delight, and Sean turned his back to him. He took a deep breath, letting the shame melt from his face. He jutted his chin up, looking at his friend's eyes through the electronic screen.

"Actually it's a lie," he said.

Black Tom started and he saw Alex's face relax.

"Why the hell didn't you say that sooner?" Alex said, not even trying to hid his relief.

"Seanny, stop playing games with your friend," Black Tom snapped.

Sean kept his back turned to him.

"Don't mind the moron behind me," Sean said, "Your brother's fine."

"His brother is being prepped for experimentation by one of my top scientists!" Black Tom snapped.

Sean turned on his heel. Black Tom's face was flushed, his eyes furious. He grinned.

"Shut up, because you don't have any idea what you're talking about," Sean said.

Black Tom's lips curled over his teeth and Sean laughed.

"Look, for some reason you seemed to be under the impression that, as soon as you told me about my daughter, I would be on my hands and knees, unable to do anything other than lick your boots," Sean said, "And maybe, if you caught me a few years ago, maybe that would have happened. But I doubt it. Because I'm not that man."

Sean gestured, the laughter welling up in him to the point of near-hysteria.

"You were right, I was willing to do anything for Terry, but my mind went in a different direction," Sean said.

Black Tom began to look uncertain. Sean knew that Alex was confused, but he could talk to him later.

"Maybe you were so stupid because you thought that I was the type to give up, give into the nightmare that swirled around me," he said, "But I don't run away anymore, and that means a lot of things. If it meant putting someone who I knew my friend didn't want directly in the line of danger in danger, then so be it. Because you didn't just underestimate what I was willing or capable of doing when you issued this demand."

Sean smiled.

"You underestimated Cyclops too."

* * *

As Scott tried the zip cuffs again they gave way. Sean had coached him on how to apply pressure over an amount of time that would make them give way. All it took was patience. As soon as his hands were free his hand flew up to his goggles, putting them on the highest setting. The plastic walls of his containment cell shattered beneath the heat and pressure.

Several chunks knocked into the guards, just like he had hoped. It provided a quick distraction Sinister turned just as Scott tipped a table over and ducked behind it for cover. A guard got a shot off, but he pushed himself above the table and let out three quick blasts from his visor. Three of them fell before the other four continued firing.

"Don't be silly now Scott!" Sinister howled.

Scott had no idea how the freak knew his name, but he'd known that he was a Summers somehow. It wasn't impossible that he knew this too.

"Just come quietly and we won't have to damage you!"

In response Scott let out one of his blasts at full strength. Sinister was knocked back, his chest sizzling. He seemed somewhat unfazed, his eyes angry.

"You're outnumbered," he snarled, "You don't know what to do next. Now come quietly so I don't have to break you this soon!"

Sinister stretched his hand out. The table Scott had been hiding behind was flung away, leaving him exposed. Scott let out two more optic blasts before he ran up to the nearest guard. He put him into a headlock. Another guard fired at him and Scott threw the guard in front of him, letting him absorb the blast in the shoulder.

From the other side of the room Sinister stepped forward, his eyes blazing.

"There's nowhere to run," he hissed.

Scott ran to the other side of the room and knocked on the wall. It wasn't as reinforced as the others. He knew he was outside of the confines of the rest of the factory. He looked up and sent off the strongest blast that he could master. The blast went through ceiling, sending chunks of plaster down on two of the guards. He knew that the red blast was arching into the sky, a clear beacon to the outside.

"There will be in a minute," Scott said.

Sinister's eyes burned brighter and several tables around the room began flying. One hit Scott in the stomach, sending him tumbling backwards. Another hit the last guard, smashing him into the wall. Sinister wasn't thinking clearly. Good. Alex had always taught him that once your opponent was unbalanced you had almost won.

A minute later wind whistled into the room, causing the objects to smash against the wall. Sinister stared as Ororo slid down the entrance that Scott had made in the roof, followed closely by Riptide. Ororo moved towards Scott, but he put his hand up. She checked herself and turned her attention to Sinister, as did Riptide.

"And when did you all become friendly?" Sinister said.

Scott smiled.

"Since we gained a common enemy," he said.

He put his hand to his goggles. Ororo's eyes turned white and electricity sparked around her fingertips. Small tornados formed in Riptide's hands.

"Now, what was it you said about coming quietly?" Scott asked.

* * *

"Riptide and Storm should have come to his aid a few minutes ago," Sean said.

His back was still turned to Alex, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. Black Tom was still scowling, but he wasn't nervous. He didn't know how thoroughly he'd been beaten. Not yet.

"So you've chosen your friend's brother over your own flesh and blood," Black Tom said, "What a pity. Terry's young life cut short so tragically."

"My daughter's not getting harmed," he said.

Black Tom's sneer became sharper, perhaps trying to mask the mounting fear.

"Her guards have orders-"

"And it won't make a difference," Sean said, "You see, we had some discussions after I talked with Cyclops, Magneto and I. And we figured a few things out."

"You trusted him with your daughter?" Black Tom said.

"It was one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do, trust a man who's been my definition of evil for the past decade," Sean said, "But yes. I trusted him to rescue her."

Black Tom paused for a minute before shaking his head.

"You're a fool Sean," he said, "They don't know where she is, and by the time that they find her the guards will have already dispatched her-"

"See, that's another thing you don't seem to understand," Sean said, "There was no line that I wouldn't cross for her. And if that meant sacrificing my last sanctuary, possibly putting my greatest secrets into the hands of my greatest enemies, then it's a paltry price."

Black Tom gaped.

"You-"

"That's right," Sean said.

He tapped the side of his head.

"Emma's been in my head since the minute I walked into this room," Sean said, "She's been very subtle in my mind thus far, but she's been there. And she knows exactly where Terry is now."

He took his hand away.

"Perhaps you should have resisted the urge to gloat," he said, "Because I'm not your victim or your tool. I'm your distraction."

* * *

Terry heard a commotion outside her door. She shrank back, unsure of what was happening. A moment later the door bent inwards, the metal buckles screeching. She ducked her head, pulling her fists in to herself. She heard the sounds of punching and screaming all around her. Terry just shut her eyes tighter.

She wished she was brave, brave enough to do something other than just curl up. Terry wished that she at least had the courage to try and run, but all she was just a quivering mass. She almost burst into tears, sick of the fear that seemed to envelop her existence from her earliest memories.

"Terry."

She paused. The voice was familiar, and it wasn't her uncle's.

"Terry, you need to look up."

She peered up. Lorna's father was standing in front of her.

"It's alright," he said.

She looked around her, her eyes wide. Mystique stood in the doorway, looking bored.

"Tell Emma to get out of my head," she said.

"She'll go in due time," he said, "Tell her that Terry's fine."

Mystique snorted.

"She knows."

She shifted in the doorway, allowing Terry to see the boy behind her. Feathery white wings were folded behind him and a shock of blonde hair framed his face. Terry knew enough to know that he wasn't a real angel, just a mutant. He was staring at her strangely though, as though she were something unusual.

"Who's he?" Terry asked.

The boy stepped forwards.

"My name's Archangel," he said.

She frowned.

"Are you related to Angel?" she asked.

He winced.

"No, I'm a friend of your father's," he said.

Terry went rigid, looking at Archangel suspiciously.

"My father's dead," she said.

"He isn't," Archangel said, "If Black Tom told you that, then he lied. Your father sent us here. He's fighting Black Tom right now so we could get you."

Terry bit her lip and glanced at Lorna's father. He looked suspicious, but not as though this was new information to him.

"Are you telling the truth?" she asked.

"Yes," Archangel said.

"Listen, I understand that Terry might be rather shocked at the moment," Lorna's father said, "But will you please wrap it up?"

Archangel rolled his eyes before turning his attention to Terry.

"Hey," he said, "It's gonna be okay, alright?"

Terry hugged herself and took a tentative step off the chair that she had huddled on. Archangel smiled.

"You're going to have to carry her," Mystique snapped, "She won't be fast enough."

Archangel pursed his lips, but his expression softened when he looked at Terry.

"Are you okay with that?"

Terry nodded. She didn't think she had much choice. He scooped her up and walked through the door. Terry took a deep breath, trying to process what she'd been told. She knew that fairytales weren't real. Long-lost parents didn't just show up ready to fight for their children, children they didn't know.

It had happened with Lorna though. Now it looked like it might be happening for her.

* * *

_Mystique says she's fine._

Sean let out a sigh of relief as Emma's message floated through his mind.

_I'm leaving now. It's rather spacious in here._

Sean snorted, but she couldn't spoil his good mood. He looked at Black Tom, whose face had turned pale.

"She's safe," Sean said, "You've lost your bargaining chip, and the X-men and the Brotherhood are battering down your door."

He cracked his neck.

"Now that you know you've lost, which isn't even a modicum of what I felt when I heard about Terry," he said, "I want you to consider one last thing."

He narrowed his eyes, letting the rage he felt show in his eyes.

"For seven years you kept me from my daughter, the only child of Maeve and I, a child that I mourned over for seven years," Sean said, "And in those seven years you hurt her, threatened to kill her if I didn't sell my soul."

He took a step forward, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"And now, now it's just you and me," he said.


	32. Chapter 32

February 23, 1974

Terry looked up at Archangel. His face was pale but determined. She'd seen that expression on the faces of the Brotherhood when they were getting ready to go out on a mission. Lorna had often looked like that, but she'd always been excited too. Lorna had always wanted to go out with Azazel or her father.

She looked around. Lorna's father and Mystique were moving in front of them. Archangel was barely touching the ground as he moved, almost as if he feared that jostling her would cause the bruises and cuts that decorated her arms to flare up. She wanted to tell him that it didn't matter, that she barely felt them anymore, but there were other things on her mind.

He'd said that he knew her father, that her father was coming to rescue her. Her uncle had always said that her father was a fool and dead. Those were the only things she'd been told about him. At least one thing was a lie. She supposed that the other was too. Black Tom had called Lorna and her father fools too, but they were smart. She couldn't trust his estimation of anyone.

She chewed on her lip and looked up at Archangel.

"Could you tell me about my father?"

The words came out as barely more than a whisper. Archangel looked down at her in surprise. She saw uncertainty cross his face.

"Well, uh, what do you want to know?" he asked.

He looked awkward, but not angry. Emboldened Terry felt her tongue loosen slightly.

"What's he like?" she asked.

Her voice was almost on a normal level now.

"He's strong," Archangel said, "And he's a good guy. Less of a jerk than our other teacher."

He grinned, but Terry wasn't sure what he meant. The grin slipped off Archangel's face.

"He's a cop normally," he said, "But he came to help us out. His name is Sean. Sean Cassidy. He's Irish, or at least his parents were, and he's got red hair. He's a mutant. Sonic screams."

"Sonic?" Terry asked.

"He can let out these really awesome high-pitched screams. Knocks his enemies over," Archangel said, "We call him Banshee."

Lorna's father looked over his shoulder. He snorted.

"What?" Archangel snapped.

"You're doing a very poor job telling her what she wants to know," Lorna's father said.

"Sorry, I don't have any experience with this," Archangel said, "And when I want your help, I'll ask for it."

His words were exasperated, but they still weren't angry. She felt nervous again. There was only one question that she wanted answered, and he hadn't brought it up. Terry felt like it was a bad question to ask, but she needed to know. Mustering up her strength Terry tugged on the collar of Archangel's uniform and he looked down at her again.

"Does he love me?" she asked.

Her voice came out pitiful. Archangel's expression softened.

"He does," he said.

Terry looked down, closing her eyes.

"Why did he leave me with my uncle?"

"Hey, don't say that," Archangel said.

Terry looked up. Archangel's face was earnest.

"He didn't know you were alive," Archangel said, "He thought you died. If he'd known you'd have never even seen Black Tom. He just found out about you a few days ago and he's been fighting for you ever since."

Terry took a deep breath.

"He loves you," Archangel said.

She didn't say anything. Terry wasn't sure what to believe, and she felt stupid for asking the question. There was only one person who could answer that question for her, and he wasn't there. However, from the way that Archangel was talking, she assumed that she'd be meeting her father soon enough.

* * *

Sean lunged at Black Tom. He knocked him off balance before he had a chance to retaliate. Sean grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the wall. The blood smear left there gave him some satisfaction, but it wasn't enough. Sean pulled Black Tom's head back so he could talk to him directly.

"For seven years you hurt my daughter," Sean said, "I don't think I'll stretch this out that long, but I think that I'll try to cram as much as I can into a couple of minutes."

Black Tom elbowed Sean in the ribs. Sean let go and Black Tom brought his shillelagh around. A blast of heat shot out and Sean dropped to the floor. The blast knocked a hole in the wall behind him. Sean tried to judge its trajectory. As he did he saw Alex and Magnetrix on the electronic screen, still trapped in the force field.

"I'll be there in a minute," Sean said.

"No, but all means, take your time," Alex said.

There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm in his friend's voice, and Sean was grateful for that. Black Tom let out another blast of heat which Sean rolled to avoid. He looked up at Black Tom. He wanted to run up and punch him into submission, but he was done playing around. As much as he wanted to make him pay for every inch of Terry's skin that he'd bruised, every ounce of emotional anguish, more important things were going on.

His daughter was somewhere in the floors above him. Although he doubted that Magneto would hurt her he knew that she was still in danger. He wanted to get her out of there, wanted to see her safe and sound with his own eyes. It was agony knowing that she was safe only because Emma's voice had briefly told him so.

He sucked in a deep breath and screamed. Black Tom stumbled backwards, clutching his head. Sean saw blood trickle out of one of his ears. He reeled back and forth, his balance shot and his stomach swaying with nausea. Sean had seen it in his opponents enough times to know it for what it was: an opportunity.

Sean ran up and slammed him into the wall again. Black Tom flailed, knocking them both onto the floor. Sean scrambled to get to the top as the two of them fell. He succeeded, pinning Black Tom beneath him on the floor. His breath was coming out in heavy pants again and he shifted his weight so it was on Black Tom's bad leg.

Black Tom howled as Sean fished around for his zip cuffs.

"Normally I'd at least try to read you your rights at this point, but I'm not even remotely here representing Interpol," he said, "I'm an X-man right now, and we leave the fiddly stuff for later."

He pulled the zip cuffs out. He started to wind one around Black Tom's hands, feeling an intense feeling of satisfaction.

"Sean!" Alex yelled.

Sean looked up. A guard was standing in the doorway. Before he could say anything the guard fired his gun and Sean felt a blast of heat in his shoulder. It knocked him backwards and he clutched his burnt shoulder in agony. He could hear the flesh sizzling, practically see the steam rising off the wound. It made him want to be sick.

Sean could see more guards pouring into the room. Black Tom got to his feet as Sean counted them. There were ten of them and others kept coming.

"You didn't think I would be stupid enough not to tell back-up when to arrive, did you?" Black Tom sneered.

More came and Sean knew that there were too many for him to take on his own. He staggered to his feet, still clutching his shoulder. As they leveled their guns Sean did the only sensible thing that he could think of doing. He screamed at his highest frequency, sending the guards in the front to their knees. Others were managing to keep their balance though, their guns still trained on him.

Sean launched himself through the back door just as their guns went off. He saw the way the metal turned molten. He gritted his teeth. Black Tom was behind the door, and he was going to get away. However, Black Tom wasn't suicidal. Terry was being protected by some of the strongest people in the world. They wouldn't let him harm her. That was part of the deal.

He grabbed a pin from his utility belt and jammed the door lock. It was a useful trick he'd picked up at Interpol, and he knew that it would hold them for a while. He stumbled down the halls, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. It was easier said than done, but he could get past it. He needed to find Alex and Magnetrix, and then join the others. Then he could see Terry then, really see her.

Sean tuned his ears in for the thrumming of a generator. He found it in one of the rooms towards the beginning of the basement. Sean threw the door open and saw his friend and Magnetrix in the middle of a ring of generators. Alex turned to him when he came in and Sean looked at the generators that lit up the room.

He felt tired. However, being tired wasn't an option for him. He pressed his face close to the nearest generator and screamed, letting his voice break the delicate gears. The force field dropped and Sean stumbled away from the machine. Alex rushed up to him and put his arm around his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Sean said.

"No, you're not," Alex said.

Sean turned to him and grinned.

"This coming from a man whose ligaments I've seen," he said.

Alex snorted.

"Yeah, well, you're not me," he said.

"I know," Sean said.

Alex laughed.

"So, can we go back and get a chance to punch Black Tom in the face?" he asked.

"I think the three of us can manage it."

Magnetrix walked behind him. Sean had almost forgotten that she was there. He looked at her and saw her father staring back at him from behind a fringe of green hair and a dark hood. He expected her to say many things, perhaps that he'd missed his chance at Black Tom, but instead she surprised him.

"You're Terry's father?" she asked.

Sean stared at her. He felt the almost hysterical need to explain himself.

"Yes," he said, "I didn't know, I didn't-"

"Hey," Alex said, "It's okay, I know."

Magnetrix continued to look at him, a small smiling blossoming on her lips.

"Alex tells me you're a good man."

Sean blinked. Alex? They were on first name terms?

"And Terry deserves a good man for a father," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Sean swallowed.

"Thank you," he said.

He looked at Alex, who jerked his head towards the door.

"Sean?" Alex said.

Sean turned to him.

"I'm not going to pretend that this isn't crazy and that I'm not mad about the fact that, yeah, you sent my brother into battle by himself," Alex said.

Sean gave a helpless shrug, forgetting his shoulder. He remembered it when pain seeped through his arm.

"Cyclops can handle himself," Sean said.

"I know," Alex said.

He made a vague gesture as they entered the hall. Sean could hear the pounding of the guards on the other side of the hall.

"Which is why I'm mad at myself for being mad, because it's dumb and irrational," he said, "I know that you did the right thing. And...this is gonna sound cheesy, but I'm honored that you put so much at risk to protect the X-men, my brother. Couldn't have done better myself."

Alex nodded his head, helping him towards the hall where the pounding was.

"I've never been happier to know you," he said.

Sean bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep up the emotions that were boiling up in him. He'd felt so much guilt about putting Scott, a boy he'd known since childhood, into possible death. He'd hoped that he was doing the right thing, the only thing that he could think of to save both Scott and his daughter.

The affirmation made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A grin spread over Alex's face.

"Come on," Alex said, "Let's go meet your daughter."

Sean smiled.

"But first," Magnetrix said, "I say that we teach Black Tom a lesson that he'll never forget."

Sean turned to her, saw the defiance on her face. Alex was still grinning, but he could see the determination there too.

"Sounds like a plan," Sean said.


	33. Chapter 33

February 23, 1974

Sinister shouldn't be so fast. Every time Scott went to blast him or Ororo or Riptide used their powers against him he managed to narrowly avoid them. It shouldn't be so difficult. Scott had managed to blast him earlier. Then again, he might not have been trying to seriously fight him then.

Sinister moved out of the way of one of Ororo's thunderbolts. Scott saw her wobble. It had taken a lot out of her, and her strikes rarely missed. Sinister straightened his coat and gave Scott a condescending smile, almost as though he were a child who was trying to stick a fork in an electric socket.

"I see that now might not be the best time for my experiments, especially since the X-men have managed to ruin my lab not once, but twice," he said.

His voice was biting, although his expression remained polite.

"As such I suppose it's time for us to leave," he said.

Scott knew what would happen next. He turned the dial on his goggles so they were going at full blast as Sinister lunged for him. It hit him in the chest and Scott readied another one. Sinister flung his hand out and a table knocked into Scott, sending him to the floor. He heard Ororo say something, but he couldn't quite make it out.

The next thing he knew Sinister had his hand around his throat. He lifted Scott into the air and Scott gasped, his legs kicking out. Despite the fact that he knew he was hitting him Sinister's grip didn't falter. He saw Ororo and Riptide rush forward, but Sinister inclined his head and the two went flying across the room.

"You try my patience," he said.

Scott dug his fingernails into the arm holding him as Sinister reached into his pocket. He pulled out what looked like a knife. He looked at it for a minute before driving it into Scott's upper arm. Scott let out a strangled cry. The blood splattered onto the rest of his arm, onto Sinister's face and his shirt. Sinister began to cut, his expression pleasant and his eyes aglow as the blood dripped onto the ground.

"You've inconvenienced me," he said, "This is just a taste of what's waiting for you. Now then, it's time to come quietly. "

Scott looked over at Ororo and Riptide. Both were still trying to get to their feet. They wouldn't be able to help him. Scott looked back at Sinister, who was increasing his pressure. Part of Scott's mind rebelled against what he was going to do, but he didn't see any other option. His brother had always taught him that, even if it wasn't a good choice, action was generally preferable to inaction.

Giving up on trying to get Sinister's hands off his throat Scott reached up and ripped off his goggles, staring right at Sinister's face. The unfiltered force of his mutation burned out of his eyes. Scott could feel the heat in his eyelids, could feel his mutations delight at finally being able to be free, with no ruby quartz in the way.

The force knocked Sinister backwards, his hands letting go of Scott's throat. Scott hit the opposite wall, the radiation still streaming from his eyes. Sinister smashed into the wall opposite them and kept travelling, the smell of burning flesh making him gag. He could feel the force of his mutation still travelling, pushing onwards.

Struggling, Scott managed to close his eyes. His mutation protested, but he jammed his goggles back on. He got to his feet, staring at the tunnel that his eyes had charred into the walls and the earth beyond it. He didn't turn as Ororo and Riptide got to their feet. Scott didn't want to see what they were thinking in their eyes.

Seconds later the roof began to rumble. He turned to them and he saw Riptide flinch. Ororo looked surprised. She had never seen what his mutation could be. He swallowed and waved them on. He could talk to Ororo about what she'd seen later. He'd let Riptide tell the story to the rest of the Brotherhood. They needed to know what he was capable of if he was to lead the X-men against them.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

Ororo nodded. The three of them ran out of the room. A minute later the roof collapsed, dirt, concrete, and rubble filling the area in.

"Nothing could have survived that," Ororo said.

Scott nodded, but Sean's words echoed in his head. Hank had ripped Sinister's heart out, and he'd managed to survive that somehow. He'd thought of it as a mere inconvenience. However, in the very least Scott had managed to burn his head off and then crush his bones. That should be enough.

He shook his head.

"Let's get to the first floor," he said, "Rendezvous with the others."

* * *

The door was almost a melted pile of slack when they reached it. Alex unwound his arm from Sean's shoulder and cracked his knuckles.

"Actually, I think I might be a better candidate for this job," Magnetrix said.

Alex shrugged.

"Probably," he said, "If we were being subtle."

Sean watched the red bands of light gather around Alex's chest.

"But we're not," he said.

A blast of light shattered the door, sending the metal pieces across the inside of the room, as well as the red light. Sean saw guards holding their faces and stumbling around the room, blood seeping from their wounds. Alex cracked his neck before diving into the doorway, Magnetrix following closely.

Sean followed too. He couldn't help but notice how in-sync the two were. He supposed that they had just been fighting together for a few days, and that had come from a deep necessity. It would be natural to get used to the other. However, Sean didn't think that was it. He considered talking to Alex later, but he brushed it off for a foolish notion. Alex wouldn't get too close to a member of the Brotherhood.

A guard threw a punch at Sean. Sean caught it and spin kicked him to the ground. He screamed at another two guards, sending them to the floor. From the other side of the room he heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, metal twisting, and more burning filled the air. He was glad that he'd gotten his nausea somewhat under control years ago. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to fight alongside Alex.

After a few minutes the guards lay in heaps around the room. However, there was an important element missing.

"Where the hell is the freak?" Alex said.

Sean looked around, his eyes wide and his breath coming in harsh gasps. Black Tom wasn't in the room. Where was he? Sean needed to find him, needed to end it. He needed to make sure that Black Tom was never going to be able to hurt his daughter again, that she really would be safe when he took her back to Westchester.

"There's only one other way out of here," Magnetrix said.

She pointed to the floor above him.

"The other teams are coming down from there," Sean said.

He felt hope blossom in his chest.

"He's trapped if that's the way that he really went," he said.

Magnetrix grinned.

"He went up there alright," she said.

She pointed at the door. Sean could see a line of blood leading from the doorway in.

"You really did a number on him," Magnetrix said.

He could hear something approaching joy in her voice. He shifted uncomfortably, but began walking forwards. Alex moved to help him, but he waved him off.

"I'm not that delicate," he said.

"Your shoulder looks like raw hamburger," Alex said.

"Yeah, my shoulder," he said, "Not my legs."

Alex shook his head.

"You're turning out to be one stubborn bastard," he said.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," Sean said, "But I need to see Terry."

"The wound will freak her out," Alex said.

"Unfortunately she's seen far worse," Magnetrix said.

Sean and Alex both turned to look at her.

"We don't have a med bay," she said, "And…sometimes noise attracts a crowd, and you're too focused on helping the person bleeding out to do what you know you should."

There was a silence. Alex coughed.

"Alright, but I don't think it'll make a great first impression," he said, "That's all I'm saying."

Magnetrix blinked.

"That's probably right," she said.

Alex took off his coat.

"Switch jackets with me," he said, "It should cover that up."

Sean shrugged off his own grimy jacket and took Alex's.

"Thanks," he said.

"Well, it's all the primping we really have time for," Alex said.

Sean grinned and headed up the stairs. He knew that Alex and Magnetrix were close behind him. He hoped that the upper levels had already been cleared or, better yet, someone had already apprehended Black Tom. If that was the case than he hoped that Jean and Clarice had been the ones to do it. As much as he hated him, Sean knew that he'd have to put him in prison. It rankled, but he wouldn't usher in Terry's freedom by forsaking the lessons that Charles had taught him.

The first floor of the factory had been cleared. He saw Jean and Clarice standing in the middle of the hall, looking around. Emma and Angel were there too, the two groups keeping their distance. Jean and Clarice turned and waved at him, showing that they were uninjured. There was no sign of Black Tom anywhere though and Sean's heart sank.

Angel's eyes lit up at the sight of Magnetrix. Emma looked on in amusement as Angel ran up, bypassing both Alex and Sean to hug Magnetrix.

"We were so worried about you!" she said, "Your father was going berserk, and I don't use that word a lot!"

"I'm fine Angel," Magnetrix said.

She looked sheepishly at Alex. He shrugged as Jean and Clarice walked up.

"Are you alright?" Jean said.

"Fine," Alex said, "How did the mission go?"

"We cleared our area sir," Clarice said.

"Any sign of Black Tom?" he asked.

"None sir," Clarice said.

He nodded.

"Alright, any word from the others?" he said.

"Not yet," Clarice said.

Sean looked at the upper levels where he knew Magneto, Mystique, and Warren would come from. With Terry. As he did he saw Scott hurrying up from one of the side rooms, followed by Ororo and Riptide.

"Havok!" Scott yelled.

Alex turned and gave him a thumbs-up. Scott walked up to him and Alex clapped him on the shoulder.

"Heard you did good," he said.

Scott beamed, his expression soaking in his brother's approval. Sean looked back up at the stairway and his breath caught in his throat. Magneto was running down the stairs, his eyes on his daughter. Mystique walked carelessly behind him. Sean waited impatiently for her to move out of the way, and then he saw her.

Terry was small. Warren was able to carry her as though she were nothing. Her eyes peered out from a thick fringe of red hair. He took a few steps forward, feeling as though there was no sound in the room. Magneto moved past him and Mystique stepped over to Emma. He barely registered any of it.

Terry looked up. Her eyes met his and he swallowed. She tugged on Warren's sleeve and he let her down. Warren stepped aside, his expression nervous. Sean knew he should thank him, do something, but his eyes were fixed on the little girl walking towards him, her expression full of trepidation and uncertainty.

She stopped, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes downcast.

"Are you my father?" she whispered.

Sean closed his eyes for a minute, feeling his legs wobble beneath him. He knelt down and opened his eyes. Maeve's hazel eyes stared back at him from a pale face decorated with his own freckles. He tried to smile, tried to reassure her that everything was going to be alright, but the expression was lost.

He struggled to say something to his daughter, to tell her that she was his. He almost didn't catch the movement from the other end of the room. Sean's eyes widened as Black Tom brought his shillelagh around, the blast of heat heading towards Terry, her back turned to the danger.

Without thinking Sean leapt shoved Terry out of the way. Seconds later he felt the blast hit his chest. His rib snapped under the impact and he felt a stabbing pain inside of him. It felt as though someone were sitting on his chest, keeping air from him, holding him under the water. He clasped the area and blood spread from beneath his fingers.


	34. Chapter 34

February 23, 1974

Terry stared at the man on the ground, his blood splattered across his face and matching his hair. Her hair. The blood reminded her of the faint dusting of freckles she'd seen on his face. Hers were more vibrant, but she'd known even before she'd asked the question that he was her father.

She hadn't quite believed Archangel when he'd told her about her father. She hadn't thought that it could be possible. She'd been left alone with her uncle for so long. If anybody had wanted her then they would have come for her long ago. Instead they had left her to him, and she hadn't thought that there was anyone else who cared for her, except perhaps Lorna.

Then she had seen him at the factory, seen the way he looked at her. She had never seen anyone look at her like she was a miracle. Suddenly it seemed easier to believe what Archangel was telling her, to know that there was a father for her out there somewhere who would love and protect her.

Now he was bleeding and gasping for breath. She saw everyone else running forwards, but her uncle shot blasts of heat at the surrounding machinery, pieces of wood and chains shattering on the floor. He pulled a remote out of his pocket and pressed a button. The factory began shifting and the stray thought that it had to do with all of the equipment he'd brought in crossed her mind.

Terry saw parts of the walls detach themselves. The Brotherhood stopped short. She saw one of the machines crumble as Lorna and her father turned their attention to it. They tried it with another, but it didn't crumble. She saw one of the strange people shoot a beam of light at one, saw Archangel take flight. Terry began to wonder what exactly was going on.

After a moment she decided she didn't care. Somehow she couldn't find it in her to be scared of any of it, even though she knew she should be. Terry turned away from all of the violence and began crawling towards her father, confused and anguished all at once. She reached his side after a minute, biting her lip. His eyes focused on her and he smiled.

"You okay?" he managed.

Terry stared. He was gasping for breath and he was asking if she was okay. She felt tears in her eyes.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Good," he said, "Good…"

There was more commotion in the background. Her father reached out and touched her cheek. Terry continued to stare at him.

"You have…your mother's eyes…you know that right?" he choked out, "You're going to be beautiful…like…like her."

Tears were dripping down her face.

"I want to know you," he said.

"I want to know you too," Terry sobbed.

The sounds of the fight increased. The room seemed to be moving. Terry stayed with her father.

"It's gonna be alright," he said.

He coughed, blood splattering his chest. The hand that was touching her cheek faltered. Terry's hands shot out and grabbed it. Her father's eyes widened, but she couldn't let him go. She didn't know exactly what was happening, but a man who barely knew her had claimed to be her father and then taken a blast she was sure had been meant for her.

Lorna had told Terry once that she had known her father when he had picked her up and carried her away from her attackers. It had been confirmed later, but Lorna had known in that moment that he cared about her. She'd told Terry that it had been easy to recognize, to see the special love that existed between parents and children.

Terry had never thought that it would be that easy. Lorna had known that kind of love before she'd met her father. Terry hadn't. She hadn't even known that anyone could like her until she'd met Lorna. Now someone had decided that dying for her was not only an option, but it was preferable to seeing her hurt.

She continued crying. She didn't know what to do with a love like that.

"Don't…don't cry…"

She didn't want to cry. He hadn't asked anything of her, and this was all he wanted. Somehow she couldn't find it in her to comply, and she hated herself for being so weak. She should be able to do this one thing. Instead she was just as snivelly and scared as she had been when her uncle had hit her.

She heard heavy steps. Terry looked up and her uncle jerked her to her feet.

"We're leaving," he said.

"No!" Terry said.

He snarled. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. She looked around. Terry saw that the machines in the factory were still attacking the rest of the group. She tried to throw her weight against his arm, slow him down until someone could come, but she knew she wasn't heavy enough.

"He's my father!" Terry said.

"Who gives a damn?" her uncle snarled.

"Let her…go…"

Her father began to get up. Terry saw more blood trickle out of his lips. Her uncle laughed and kicked him in the chest, sending him back to the ground and making him cough up more blood. Terry cried out and her uncle jerked her to the side. She tried to pry his fingers off her arm, her small fingers unable to slip beneath his iron grip, but she could tell that he wasn't even paying attention to her anymore.

"You…want me…" her father gasped, "Just kill me…let her go…"

Terry sobbed. He was willing to die for her and he didn't know a thing about her.

"No, that would be merciful," her uncle spat, "This is the real agony for you. Live, die, you know you're never going to see her again. But, just for fun-"

He kicked her father again as he tried to get to his feet. Terry yanked on her uncle's arm, feeling desperate.

"Leave him alone!" she cried.

Her uncle glared at her. His hand reared back and smacked her across the face, sending her spiraling to the ground. She clipped her chin and whimpered. Terry whipped her head around saw her uncle kick her father again. Her father was still trying to get to his feet, still trying to reach her even as blood poured from his chest and lips.

All the noise from the factory seemed to be deafening. Machines were being ripped apart, her father was making strange gurgling noises, her uncle was laughing, and Terry was crying. She clenched her hands against the floor of the factory, feeling it all rushing around her, forcing its way in.

Slowly Terry got to her feet. She felt everything pressing down on her head, a burning in her lungs that she'd never felt before. Her hands clenched into fists and she felt her fear of her uncle draining away. She had to fight for her father, just like he was fighting for her. The burning increased, almost as though it were urging her on.

"I said…" Terry breathed.

Her uncle turned to her, his face a snarl.

"…to leave him…" she whispered.

Her uncle started forwards just as the burning reached a fever pitch in her throat.

"…alone!"

Her voice came out as a scream, only it was much louder than she had ever heard herself scream. It was almost as though the burning feeling was leaving her through her throat. Terry saw glass shatter on the other side of the room, saw a few of the machines tremble around him, saw the rafters shake.

Once she had started she found that she couldn't stop. For once she was being heard. She continued screaming, screaming for everything that had happened, for everything that had been stolen, for the fact that the day she'd met her father might also be the one she'd say goodbye on.

Her uncle fell to his knees, clutching his skull. Blood gushed out of his ears. Terry saw the man who had been standing near her father run over, his eyes wide. He blasted one of the machines and then sent a beam at her uncle, sending him into the wall. He slumped, his eyes closed.

The man knelt by her father. Terry's scream died in her throat, the burning satisfied now that her uncle was down. She saw that the rest of the group had finished with the machines and were staring at them. A few were moving towards them. Terry stumbled towards her father, seeing the man looking over her father's injuries.

"Sean?" the man said, "Sean?"

He looked at him, his expression panicked. Terry looked at the two. Her father's eyes were closed, and she could only see him very faintly taking breaths. He reminded her of Azazel after her uncle had stabbed him, Lorna next to him trying to help. It was the exact same position, even down to the way that the man was panicking.

Terry remembered watching the image from the kitchen. She felt her chest tighten. It was happening again, only now it was her father. Terry began crying again, falling to her knees. She felt warm arms encircle her and she cried into them. She knew who it was, the only person besides her father who might do something like this for her.

"Shhh," Lorna said, "It's going to be okay."

"It's not…" Terry sobbed.

She peeked over Lorna's coat sleeve and saw strange people run over to her father and the man. The man looked up at a pink girl.

"Think you can get him to the Blackbird?" he asked, "We might be able to stabilize him long enough to get to the hospital-"

"Beast is here," the pink girl said, "It would take a couple of stops, but I could do it."

"Perfect," the man said, "Get him there, him and Marvel Girl in case Beast needs help, and then come right back here, you understand?"

The pink girl nodded. She grabbed the hand of a girl with red hair, a pink crystal in one of her hands. She grabbed her father's wrist, and, in a flash of pink light, they were gone.

"What happened?" Terry cried.

"Terry-" Lorna tried.

Terry struggled, fighting to get out of Lorna's arms. The man who had knelt by her father was looking at her now as though she were some sort of ghost.

"Where did you take him?" she screamed.

Her voice reached a higher pitch, the burning returning. She saw a few beams shake and several people covered their ears.

"It's alright," Lorna said, her voice soothing, "They're taking him to someone who can help. That girl's a teleporter like...like Azazel."

Terry looked up at her.

"You're not lying?" she asked.

"I would never," Lorna said.

Terry gulped. There was hope.

"He's going to be fine," Lorna said.

There was a pink flash of light and the pink girl appeared again.

"Beast is operating right now. Marvel Girl is assisting him," she said, "Beast did not tell me his status, but he seemed absorbed in his work."

The strange names made Terry's head spin.

"Good. Get the rest of the team back," the man said.

The pink girl hesitated.

"I don't think that I can do more than one more trip," she said, sighing "One passenger at most."

"Okay then-"

"Take Terry," Lorna said.

Both the man and the girl looked at her.

"She needs to be there," Lorna said.

Terry looked at her gratefully. The pink girl glanced back at the man uncertainly. He nodded, his eyes fixed on Lorna.

"Magnetrix is right," he said, "Take Terry and stay there. Try to get some rest: we may need you later. We'll be there soon."

The pink girl nodded. Terry took a deep breath as Lorna's arms unwound from around her.

"It's going to be fine Terry," Lorna said.

Terry bit her lip and walked up to the pink girl.

"You might feel a little disoriented when I do this," the pink girl said.

"That's okay," Terry murmured.

The pink girl grasped her hand. Terry saw a pink crystal form in her other hand. Lorna smiled at Terry, although the expression looked strained to her.

"Everything's going to be fine," she said.

As the pink light enveloped them Terry prayed that she was right.

* * *

_**A/N:** Only two more chapters._


	35. Chapter 35

_**A/N: **I'd like to thank the people who pointed out that chapter content was mixed up. There was in fact a mix up. Usually I write the ending chapters together and post them one day at a time. The last two were uploaded together and it was posted instead of the other one. This is what chapter 35 was supposed to be, which makes the next chapter make more sense. Sorry about this. However, for being patient, I decided to add more content to chapter 36._

* * *

February 24, 1974

Sean was dimly aware of being jostled, of shouting and noise. It was distant though, and he blindly reached out. A furry hand held him down and he felt a needle slip into his arm. It was a small amount of pain to combine with the rest of what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn't good that he'd had to be sedated.

His mind drifted. He wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore, but he thought of the little girl with red hair that he'd seen. She had screamed. He was sure that she had screamed, although it had been difficult to hear. Had Terry been in danger? He didn't know. He wanted to find out though, wished that Hank hadn't sedated him. Sean needed to ask.

The drifting feeling consumed him. He thought he heard footsteps and sobbing, but once again he couldn't be sure. Sean wondered what was going on, where all of the pain was coming from, and when it would end. It felt like it would be easier to drift away, to let it all go. There weren't any nightmares in the hazy space.

A hand touched his face. For a moment he caught an image of a familiar, long-lost face with blonde hair. He gripped her hand for a minute before she slipped away, dissolving into spots of light. Sean wondered if he was hallucinating and tried to calm himself down. He needed to concentrate, to figure out what was going on.

"Sean?"

Hank was talking to him. Sean couldn't see him though, couldn't respond. Were his eyes closed? He didn't know. Some of the haziness had gone, so he knew that whatever they had put him on had worn off. He knew that he had been operated on, but once more the pain seemed far away.

"He's still lost a lot of blood."

Jean's voice. He wondered just where they were.

"Get another bag. His heart rate's down."

"Do you want me to get-?" Jean began.

"Yes," Hank said.

There was a pause and he heard shuffling noises. Each one became fainter and fainter.

"Sean, if you can hear me then it is very important that you say something right now."

Sean took a shallow breath. He couldn't find it in him to respond to his friend. The pain had returned in full force. It still felt like someone was sitting on his lungs. Beyond that he felt as though his own ribcage was stabbing him. Falling asleep seemed preferable to whatever he was doing and he felt his body agree with him.

"Jean!"

He heard faint shuffling sounds, as well as something like sobbing. A moment later he heard a strange whirring noise.

"Clear."

Pain shot through him. He felt his body spasm. Sean wanted to scream for them to stop whatever they were doing, but he couldn't find his voice. It took him a second to realize what was happening, and when he did he panicked. They were using defibrillators. He was dying, and Hank was desperate enough to use defibrillators.

"Clear."

The spasm shot through him again. He gritted his teeth together, feeling as though a surface was near enough for him to reach, but he couldn't.

"Clear."

Sean scrabbled, fighting in a way he wasn't even sure of. He'd never fought so ineffectually in the past, not even on that first mission in Cuba. He felt weak as the electricity shot through him, trying to find some way to steady his heartbeat. He couldn't keep up for too much longer, couldn't stand the pain.

"Clear."

More pain crackled across his limbs. The sobbing became louder, almost a wailing.

"Daddy…"

Sean's mind stopped for a minute. Daddy? His mind sharpened and he reached out, feeling almost as though he were flailing. He had to get up to the surface, had to see that Terry was alright, had to hear her call him that again. He'd already missed so much, but the idea of missing her calling him that seemed worse somehow.

He'd proved that he was willing to die for her. Now he had to prove that he was willing to live for her.

"Cl-"

Sean's hand shot up and grabbed Hank's wrist. Sean coughed as Hank's eyes widened.

"Please don't do that again," he said.

Hank smiled, a choked laugh coming out of his lips.

"Well don't worry me like that then," he said.

Sean managed a weak grin. He turned his head and saw Terry, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Her lower lip trembled.

"Hey," he said.

More tears dripped from her eyes. Hank moved to stand by Jean, who was looking at the group smilingly. Terry hurried forward, her hands grasping his wrist. He reached out and touched her face. His shoulder and ribs still hurt, but he was awake now, and Terry safe and sound, standing right next to him.

"Daddy," she whispered.

His smile grew in strength.

"That's right," he said, "I'm here. And I'm not going to leave."

* * *

A cheer rose up from the X-men. Lorna looked over at them, saw them hitting each other's backs and smiling. Alex held his radio aloft looking jubilant, a smile close to breaking his face.

"I take it that Sean lived?" her father asked.

Several smiles slipped off of the X-men's faces. Lorna looked at her father, wondering just how he could have that effect on the team.

"Yeah, he's gonna live," Alex said.

She turned to Alex and smiled.

"I'm glad," she said, "Terry…Terry should be with her father."

Alex smiled at her. Lorna knew that she would miss the little red-headed girl, but she knew that she would be in good hands now. No one would ever hurt her. More than that, she would have a good father to look after her. Lorna had once been in her place, and she knew that Terry was probably a little scared. However, she knew that things would work out for Terry, just like they'd worked out for her.

Her eyes drifted from Alex to the Brotherhood. She could see that the Brotherhood and the X-men were standing apart from each other in the wreckage of the factory's main floor. Neither group was even looking at the other, each trying to pretend as though the other weren't there, that they didn't have to deal with the other.

She looked at the Brotherhood. They looked like they had been in battle, but nothing more than that. The X-men looked the same. She wondered how the two groups could miss what she saw as obvious: they had been in the same battle, fought the same foe, and together they had triumphed.

Lorna wondered if they knew that their cooperation was what had brought them the victory. She didn't know the details, but she knew that she wouldn't have been able to fight Black Tom if Alex hadn't been fought next to her. If they hadn't watched each other's backs then it was likely they would both be dead.

It must be the same for the X-men and the Brotherhood. She wondered if any of them were even thinking the same thoughts that she was, if any of them saw any members of the other team any differently. Alex had probably been right when he said that things would go back to the way they had been before. It was a depressing thought.

She turned her attention back to the X-men. Alex was standing a little ways from the rest of the group looking at Black Tom, who had been tied up, his shillelagh broken and tossed away. Lorna walked over to Alex. He saw her coming and inclined his head in Black Tom's direction.

"We're going to be taking him into custody," he said, "We'll turn him over to Interpol. He's on their wanted list."

"You will do no such thing."

Lorna watched as her father walked over, his eyes hard.

"He has killed a member of the Brotherhood and captured another," her father said, "He's stolen and attacked us. He's ours Summers."

Lorna watched Alex's expression harden. The rest of the X-men and Brotherhood were watching the two warily.

"And he held one of ours captive for seven years and abused her," Alex said, "God knows how long it'll take her and Banshee to recover from what he did."

Her father's eyes narrowed. Lorna reached out and took his arm.

"Father," she said, her voice quiet, "He's right."

He turned to her, his eyes wide. She knew that Alex's expression was surprised as well. Lorna had surprised herself.

"He's not," her father said.

"Father," Lorna said, "No one knows what he did better than I do."

She swallowed, remembering Azazel's bleeding form.

"But, Scholastic here is right," Lorna said, "He hurt them a lot worse than us. Do you remember when we first saw Terry?"

Her father sighed. She remembered Terry hiding from them all, her eyes wide and furtive, her skin decorated with bruises.

"Magnetrix," he said, "They want to put him in prison. That's not enough."

"Yes, I know," Lorna said, "But maybe that's the way it should be. We don't need to kill him."

Her father clenched his fist.

"You're young, you don't understand," he said.

"We're better than him," Lorna said.

Her father rubbed his temples.

"After he killed Azazel? Took you from me?"

"Father, their grievances are worse," Lorna said.

"No, they're not."

She took a deep breath.

"Would you have stood for it if someone else went back to Fall River in your place?" she asked.

Her father's eyes grew distant before they focused back on her.

"That was different," he said.

"Not really," Lorna said.

He sighed before putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Fine," he said.

Lorna smiled. Her father looked at Alex, who was staring at them in shock. She looked at her father.

"Let me talk to Scholastic here for a moment," she said, "I want to make sure it's a maximum security prison."

"I'll inform the others," her father said.

She let go of his arm and he walked back to the group. When he was out of earshot she turned back to Alex.

"I thought I'd have to fight him," he said.

"I know you're surprised, but I know my father," Lorna said, "I know that he really wants to do the right thing."

Alex sighed but Lorna smiled.

"You don't understand, but that's alright," Lorna said, "I don't understand you that much either. But, my father's a good man. So are the rest. We're both fighting for the same thing. Our methods may be more…extreme, but we know what we're doing."

She waved her hands around them.

"Look what we accomplished together, even if they didn't trust each other," she said, "You and I...we're perfect examples that we can work together, that we can make things different. You just have to accept that we're not the bad guys. We're just different from you."

Alex hesitated. She could see the conflict on his face.

"Well…there's more to you than I thought," he said.

Lorna's smile broadened. It was a start. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. Mystique was standing behind her. The smile fell off her face.

"Mystique," she said.

"Magnetrix," Mystique said.

Lorna swallowed.

"I'm so sorry about Azazel," she said.

"Yes, well, if you had been stronger than he might be alive now," Mystique said, "But you're too weak and so he died."

Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact. Lorna blinked, the words cutting and unexpected.

"It's alright though," Mystique said, "You might still be useful."

Lorna blinked. Before she could say anything Mystique reached inside her vest and drew one of her knives. She hit Lorna, knocking her to the ground. Lorna saw as Alex started forwards, but Mystique had already drawn her hand back. The next thing she saw was Mystique plunging the knife into Black Tom's throat.

Blood sprayed out and Black Tom gagged. Alex began shouting as Mystique stabbed him again, her eyes blazing. Alex grabbed Mystique's arm, jerking her away. Lorna watched as a metal chain knocked him back towards the opposite wall. The rest of the X-men ran up, but a machine fell in between them and the Brotherhood, forming a barricade.

Her father rushed to her side, helping her up.

"Mystique," her father snarled, "We will have words later."

He glanced at the barricade. Already she could see where Alex and Cyclops's blasts were breaking through.

"But for now, we must leave."

Feeling numb Lorna got up, allowing her father to lead her away.


	36. Chapter 36

February 25, 1974

"I couldn't do anything," Alex said.

Charles sighed and Alex rubbed his temples. The team had arrived in the early hours of the morning. Alex had gone to him for a debriefing while the rest of the team had gone to rest. They had earned it. He'd go over their performance in a few hours.

Carly had hurried to meet Hank and flung herself into his arms. He'd been about as far away from the action as he could be though. Alex had tried to tell her that on the radio, but it appeared that words were trumped by sight.

The same went for Terry. Moira and Charles had stared at the little girl who refused to leave Sean's side, even though he was on a gurney. She'd asked about Black Tom, her expression fearful. He'd told her that she was never going to have to see him again.

She'd asked Alex about Lorna too, and it had taken Alex a few minutes to figure out who Lorna was. Magnetrix. Her real name was Lorna. He'd had to tell her that she'd had to leave before she could say goodbye. He didn't feel like he was up to telling her what had really happened.

"There wasn't much you could do," Charles said, "You say that Raven attacked him suddenly and without warning."

Alex ran a hand through his hair.

"I know," he said, "But…professor, I just feel-"

"There wasn't anything you could do," Charles said, "It's difficult, but sometimes you just have to accept that."

Alex shook his head. Charles cocked his head.

"Alex, this is about more than what happened with Black Tom, isn't it?" he asked.

Alex snorted. He could never get anything past Charles.

"I spent a few days with Magnetrix," he said.

Charles waited and Alex took a deep breath.

"She became a friend."

There was a silence.

"I tried not to," Alex said, miserable, "But it happened anyway."

"And?" Charles asked.

"There's no and," Alex said, "There's just a 'what happens next' that I'm scared of."

"You mean fighting against her," Charles said.

"Exactly," Alex said, "I think…I think I might understand why you still call Magneto and Mystique by their names a little better now."

He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"Charles, she was shocked when Mystique killed Black Tom. The expression on her face Charles," Alex said, "I'm never going to forget it. And…the way she talked about things…"

He closed his eyes.

"She's not like the rest," he said.

His breathing became shallow. He didn't want to say the next words that were on his mind, but he had to. Alex didn't like thinking about it.

"There was this one time that I was threatening this man, you know how it is."

Charles nodded, his expression reluctant. Unfortunately they both knew how it could get at times.

"She actually got angry," Alex said, "She didn't like the idea of anyone getting tortured. She was getting ready to stop me when I revealed it was a farce."

There was a long silence.

"Perhaps the Brotherhood is changing," Charles said.

Alex took another deep breath. One of his hands instinctively went to his shoulder. He opened his eyes and removed his hand.

"I'm not sure they have," he said.

"She thinks they have," Charles said.

"Yes, she thinks that," Alex said, "And it's obvious she's devoted to her family. I just wonder…"

He lifted his head.

"I just wonder when she's going to realize that the Brotherhood aren't the good guys," he said.

* * *

"You're not going to punish her?" Lorna asked.

Her father frowned. His expression confused her: surely he understood why she was upset. Anyone would be upset about what had happened. They had broken their promise to Alex, had murdered a man in cold blood. Lorna wanted to scream and shout, wanted to hear the people she trusted denounce what had happened.

Instead no one had said anything. Even Angel had seemed unmoved by the events. Her father would understand though. He would see why he had to do something.

"I have punished her," he said.

"No you haven't!" Lorna said.

Her father's frown deepened.

"It's not like you to be so vindictive," her father said, "I've removed her from the missions roster for a month and made sure that she knows that if she ever touches you again she will feel my wrath."

His hand clenched into a fist.

"If not for all her years of service she would have felt it already."

She made an impatient gesture.

"Not that," Lorna said, "That doesn't matter."

"That doesn't matter?" her father demanded, "Lorna, she hit you!"

He touched her cheek where a bruise was rapidly forming. She shook her head, jerking away from him.

"If she has to be mad at someone it might as well be me. I know what happened, and I've made my peace with it, no matter how painful," Lorna said, "I dont care about that. But she killed Black Tom!"

Her father sighed.

"Lorna, we both know he deserved it," he said.

"That's immaterial!" Lorna said, "We'd just agreed not to! We'd just agreed to be the better people!"

"We are. Mystique simply decided to seek justice for the man she loved," her father said.

"That wasn't justice!" Lorna said, "That was revenge!"

Her father sighed again and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Listen to me Lorna. You'll learn one day that they're much the same thing," he said, "It was better for us to kill him. I don't like that Mystique disobeyed me, but her actions were the right thing to do."

Lorna took a deep breath.

"It wasn't," she said.

Her smiled before shaking his head.

"You're still so young," he said, "You did well on this mission, although you too disobeyed me."

She sighed, wondering how he could change the subject so easily. She couldn't.

"Still, it seems like I should start giving you some more responsibility," he said, "You seem to be able to work with even the…less savory types."

She looked at her father, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. Her father was proud, and his pride in her was something she had always craved. However, she was still feeling that strange feeling of her world being turned upsdie down.

What he was implying about Alex was also wrong. He had fought beside her, listened to her even if he didn't agree. He hadn't been the one who had killed Black Tom and then continued stabbing him.

"Thank you," she said, "But I don't feel like Mystique did the right thing."

"She did," her father said, "Try to understand."

Lorna nodded slowly.

"I understand," she said.

Her father smiled and hugged her. She hugged him back, swallowing her pain.

"It's good to have you back," he said, "I'm glad that you understand."

He released her and walked away. Lorna turned her head away once he had left the room.

"I understand," Lorna murmured, "I just don't agree."

Everyone else did though. She didn't know where that left her.

* * *

Boots tapped on the ground next to the factory. There were a few scouts looking in the wreckage, picking things up before throwing them away. Several cranes had already been moved to the far east side and were digging. They were taking too long though. Much, much too long.

A few other scouts were murmering amongst themselves. He wondered if he should ban that. Their voices were irritating, like the chatter of bugs. One day he'd find a way to step on them all, but if evolution took the appropriate course he wouldn't have to.

A shout made him turn. He shoved the scouts out of his way and walked down to the crater in the middle of the earth. Something was being pulled out of the wreckage. He stared dispassionately as the broken body, its head burned away, was thrown onto the floor.

Sinister knelt by the body of his last host. He needed to be more careful. At the rate he was going he wouldn't be able to replenish himself soon. Still, he didn't want to wear himself out too quickly. He removed the host's coat and looked it over.

The rust stains were still prominent on it from where he'd spilled the young Summers's blood. Sinister smiled to himself. It wasn't much, but he had their DNA now. He could work with that.

Carefully he cut the rust stains out of the coat before placing them in vials. He hummed to himself as as he did so. This was going to be the start of his masterpiece.

* * *

Terry woke up, her eyes wide. She looked around, feeling scared. She wasn't sure where she was, and for a moment she panicked. It took her a moment to remember what had happened, that she had been taken to a mansion where her father's friends lived. It took her a moment to remember that she had a father at all.

She bit her lip. They had told her that she was never going to have to face her uncle again. Terry hadn't pressed for particulars. It was over, and something else was beginning. She wasn't sure just what was beginning, but she was glad that her uncle was gone. She wouldn't miss that part of her life.

She would miss one thing though. Terry had been sad that she hadn't been able to say goodbye to Lorna. She'd been such a good friend, and she'd comforted her when Terry had thought she'd lost her father.

Her father. The idea was so foreign. It was still hard to think of how he'd fought for her, why someone would want to do that. It pressed on Terry's mind much more than any sort of fear about what she had done with her voice. Archangel had told her that her father did that too. Having the ability was just more confirmation that he was her father.

None of it seemed real though. She looked around, trying to find some sort of comfort from her surroundings. The room seemed so big and cold though. There walls were bare and the furnishings seemed so alien. She snuggled deeper into the blanket, but it wasn't enough. She pushed the blanket off of her and tiptoed out of her room.

Terry pushed the door open and peeked out. The hallway was empty and she stepped out onto the plush carpet. It felt nice beneath her feet. The walls seemed much friendlier too, covered with pictures.

Terry continued down the hallway. She inched down the stairs. She could hear a few murmurs from the other rooms. She'd been told that there were other children in the mansion, children that she could meet and be friends with. They'd told her that it was a school and, if she wanted, she could attend.

Her uncle had never sent her to school. She'd learned to read and write in a haphazard way, almost as though it were a second thought. Terry had loved books though, loved the way that they could take her away from her life. She'd curled up with many of them, trying to draw as much comfort from them as she could.

Terry walked down the stairs, holding onto the wooden railings. She peeked down the hallway. It was empty too. Still feeling nervous she walked a few doors down to where they'd told her that her father was. She needed to see him, to remind herself that he was real, that the new life she'd been given was real.

She knocked on the door. There wasn't any answer. Terry hesitated, uncertain as to whether or not she would be allowed to enter. Lorna had let her into her room, but she had been able to ask long before she had first ventured in. Her father hadn't been in any position to answer questions after the furry man had healed him.

Terry swallowed and opened the door, hoping he wouldn't mind. She saw several machines hooked up to him. It was obvious that he had been asleep before she opened the door, but when she did his eyes snapped open. He looked at her and, instinctively, Terry shrank away, her hands clutching the door.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He sat up, wincing as he did so.

"What for?" he asked.

"I…I woke you up," Terry murmured.

He smiled and yawned.

"I don't mind Terry."

Feeling bolder Terry crept up. Her father was swathed in bandages, and something like a brace covered his chest. A bathrobe had been put on over it, and she could see his blue pajama pants peeking out from the disarrayed covers. Terry wondered how soundly he'd been sleeping to kick the covers around like that.

"You okay?" he asked, "Do you need something?"

"I'm okay," she said.

Terry shifted from one foot to another.

"I was…I couldn't sleep," she said.

He didn't say anything, just kept looking at her curiously.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" she whispered.

She risked a glance up. Her father was staring at her. His expression softened and he held out his hand.

"Of course you can," he said.

Terry smiled and she climbed up the side of his bed. He moved the blanket and tucked her in. She snuggled near him, avoiding the brace and bandages. She felt one of his hands rest on the back of her head. It felt like he was staring at her hair. Terry wondered if he was comparing it to his own. She liked the idea of the two of them having the same colored hair.

"Terry," her father said, "I know that a lot of this is new for you. I know that it's going to be a little scary at first."

Terry didn't say anything.

"I know we're going to have to get used to each other," he said, "But… I want you to know that I was told you died. I didn't know you were still alive. If I had I would've ripped the world apart looking for you."

She ducked her head, her heart clenching painfully.

"Archangel told me," Terry said.

"You can call him Warren," her father said.

She heard him clear his throat. Terry felt sleep begin to weigh down her eyelids.

"I want you to know that you'll be cared for here, safe," he said.

Terry bit her lip. The last time she'd heard that she'd been ripped from her home soon after.

"But more than that Terry, you're going to be loved," her father said, "I know it might seem strange, I mean, you barely know me, but I love you. More than anything I want you to be happy."

Tears threatened even as her eyes began to close.

"I'm going to fight for that," her father said, "I'm going to fight for us to be a family. And nothing, nothing is ever going to tear us apart. I want you to understand that."

Terry snuggled closer.

"I understand," she whispered.

"Good," her father murmured, "Good."

Terry's eyes closed, sleep beginning to cloud her mind. The man next to her was her father. He was going to protect her, love her. It was more than she had ever thought would be possible. He had nearly given his life for her, to protect her from a man who populated her nightmares.

He was a good man, she could tell that. The kind of man who cared for others. If what the rest of the team had said was true, then he was a hero too He was certainly a hero to her, pulling her from danger and offering her a beautiful life.

She loved him, as strange as the concept was to her. Terry knew that she was going to be scared in the upcoming days of what was being offered, scared that it would be taken away. However, she couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just for once, things were going to be alright.

There was a reason for that though. Things were going to be alright because a good man had claimed her as his daughter. She wished she could be like him. Determination entered her. She would make sure that she would be like him.

As Terry drifted off, she knew that one day her proudest boast would be to say that she was her father's daughter.

* * *

Sean looked down at the small girl in his arms as she drifted off to sleep. Terry had been through so much. She seemed so small, so fragile. He couldn't believe how trustingly she'd come to him, how confused she'd been when he had put his life on the line for her. Was she that unused to love?

He was going to change that. He was going to bring her up in the safety of Westchester. No one would disparage her for her mutation. She would be able to recieve the assistance that he hadn't as a child.

Alex, who had visited him briefly, had explained that his daughter had exhibited her mutation. The thought brought tears to Sean's eyes. She'd had to see him bleeding and broken, and she had screamed at the world for doing it to her. Sean closed his eyes and swallowed.

No, she would never have to go through that again. He stroked her hair once and looked out the window.

"Maeve, I know you're watching," he said.

There was no answer, just like there never had been when he'd cried her name in grief.

"I've got her now," he said, "I've got her. And don't worry, I'll be a good father."

He turned his head from the window and leaned his head back. For the first time in years, he slept soundly.

* * *

_**A/N: **And that's the end! Sorry for the big mix-up with chapters. In a lot of my stories I tend to focus on other characters and Sean becomes a side character. However, the comics furnished him with a fascinating backstory, albeit one that's a littel different from the one I portrayed here. Suddenly becoming a father isn't an easy thing to go through, especially for someone like Sean who was grieving for his family. However, Sean was an X-man and an Interpol agent. He was made of stronger stuff, which is the reason why I loved writing his big reveal in Chapter 31. He was willing to go to any lengths for his daughter. They just weren't the lengths that Black Tom was expecting. _

_As for Terry, she's fascinating in and of herself. As Siryn Terry did take after her father in many ways. It's interesting since, despite some information I've seen where the X-gene is passed from males to their offspring, few mutant children take after their fathers' mutations. More seem to take after their mothers, or get completely random ones. It just solidifies their connection. _

_As for some of the other things in this story like Sinister, I was itching to use him after 'The World United' where he played a small but important rule. I thought it was time to bring him to his roots, namely being obsessed with the Summers bloodline. Originally the scene mentioned above was going to be cut and placed in the next story, but I figured that it was best put here, and the mix-up gave me a chance to do so. _

_I'd been wondering for a while what Lorna might be like if she'd been raised by Magneto when he was in charge of the Brotherhood. I know that some of you might still be curious about her, as well as the rest of the Brotherhood, but I'm not through with them yet. _

_As some as you know, this is going to be longer than a trilogy. I've actually got several more stories after this one. They're all linked, but they could be read seperately. The next one is called 'Words We Never Say.' It'll be coming out in my standard two week. _

_Now for the shoutouts! Here's to the ever-constant Princess Amon-Rae, Knight of Wings, QueenoftheSouthernSun, whylime, Chocolate and Caramel, and lovelylittlewren who apparently had been waiting for a Siryn fic from me. You're all awesome!_


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